


Change Fills My Time

by 100demons



Series: Ten Years Gone [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Id Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty year old Kakashi was supposed to have been killed by Pein during the Invasion. Instead, he wakes up in the body of his twenty year old self.</p><p>(It gets a lot more complicated.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 _Safe_. The air was heavy with the smell of rain and rotting leaves, the pungent and familiar odor of Fire Country during monsoon season. Kakashi shifted a little and felt the catch of his armor rub against his skin, mud digging into his sandals. Unbound. Tentatively, he drew within himself and checked his chakra levels: low, but slowly rising. And not as expansive as he could remember. Where previously there had been a deep well, the chakra reserves inside of him more resembled a pool.

The stupid kid really did manage it. He fucking _did_ it.

Kakashi cracked his eye open.

“Captain,” Tenzou said, his face near enough that it filled up his vision and far away enough that Kakashi couldn’t reach out and strangle him.

Pain lanced in his head, knives of hot steel furiously stabbing at Obito’s eye. He ignored it. Pain meant he was alive, meant that this wasn’t some fucked up illusion. 

“Water,” he croaked and struggled to sit up, shooting Tenzou a nasty glare when he moved to support him. “Not dead,” Kakashi muttered and settled for propping his back on a thick tree root, oil cloth slipping down. He grabbed at it with clumsy fingers and pulled it back up, making sure his ankle was covered. It was throbbing madly, threatening rain in a few minutes. He sniffed the air. Fifteen minutes, more like.

Kakashi accepted the canteen Tenzou silently handed him with ill grace and swished his mouth. The water was cold and delicious. His first drink of his new life. “Sitrep,” he said, forcing his thick tongue to move.

“Secondary targets were eliminated a few minutes after you went down, sir. Tiger sealed their scrolls and Wolf eliminated the witnesses with a poison gas. After the objectives were accomplished, Tiger took temporary command and we returned to our secondary rendezvous point,” Tenzou recited, voice muffled by the mask he still wore. The white porcelain was now grimy, splattered with dried blood and mud. “Tiger and Wolf have set up a perimeter and will return within a few minutes.”

Shodai's balls, he’d forgotten how _young_ Tenzou was. Kakashi squinted at the small figure kneeling next to him, hands clenched on his thighs. Probably still a _rookie_ , Kakashi mused. Had his voice even broken yet? There was a long pause and he abruptly realized that he was supposed to speak. “Good,” he said. “The containment scrolls?”

“In your pack. Wolf also sealed the Kakeru brothers for T&I, sir.”

It seemed Kakeru would bring him good fortune even in death. Kakashi smiled grimly and sipped at the canteen, watching how Tenzou discreetly turned away as he did so. Good kid, Kakashi thought fondly. _Pack_ , came the unbidden thought and something in his chest tightened.

“How long was I out?” he asked, trying to shake off the feeling.

“Only about half an hour, sir.” Tenzou paused and then added, a little hesitantly, “Wolf isn’t very happy about that. Sir.”

“I’ve only dragged his sorry ass around for a hundred times,” Genma grumbled, dropping from a branch without a sound.

“Mama Genma was worried sick about you, Captain,” Raidou added cheerfully, a large dark shadow winding his way through the tree roots. “Should’ve seen him fret about you, poor man.”

“That was a nasty genjutsu,” Genma shrugged. “Knocked you clean of your feet, Captain. I almost thought Kakeru had really got you there but of course, you’re too hard-headed for that. Sir.”

“It was,” Kakashi agreed and privately thought that _his_ Genma, older Genma, was much more reasonable. He set the canteen down with slow, clumsy fingers. “All clear?”

“All clear,” Raidou confirmed. “Wires and notes and all the necessary goodies to keep our convalescing Captain safe and happy.”

It was startlingly easy to fall back into the old, familiar pattern with them. He’d never _really_ left ANBU --no one did-- but it was still good to see them, alive and relatively sane and Raidou’s face clear of the ugly scar. _Mission_ , a voice in the back of his mind prodded, sounding suspiciously like the younger version of him.

Kakashi dredged up a little energy to rummage through a hip pouch, fishing out a summoning scroll. He bit down hard on his thumb and swiped it down the unfurling scroll with a clumsy move, blood streaking across the kanji jaggedly. A puff of smoke enveloped his face and a distinctly heavy weight settled on his lap.

“Get off me, Bull,” Kakashi croaked and shoved ineffectually at the warm lump. Bull ignored him and gave him a sloppy kiss, snuffling eagerly at his fingers for treats. “Not right now,” he said as gently as possible and crooked a finger at Tenzou. “Scrolls.”

Tenzou disappeared into the forest and reappeared a moment later, carefully holding Kakashi’s pack with two hands. He settled it down by Kakashi’s legs and resumed a watchful position at his side. Kid was getting to be just as bad as Pakkun, Kakashi observed, digging through the pack.

Four scrolls stinking of chakra and blood were shoved inelegantly into Bull’s drooling mouth. “Send that over to the outpost near Grass’s border, strictly for Gekkou’s eyes only.” Bull nudged Kakashi’s hand affectionately and disappeared with a crack of burnt chakra.

“We’ll move out in an hour,” Kakashi said, slowly rolling up the scroll. “Get some rest while you can.”

Genma opened his mouth, his face mutinous, but Raidou’s hand stopped him, clamping down hard on his shoulder. “As long as I don’t have to carry you again, sir,” Genma shrugged nonchalantly but Kakashi could hear the undercurrent of concern.

“Don’t worry,” Kakashi smiled, enjoying the way Genma and Raidou’s faces blanched. “You won’t have to again.”

* * *

 

_Pack._

Uzumaki Naruto.

Haurno Sakura.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Kakashi absently bit down on the end of the pencil, sharp canines worrying the wood. Of the three, Naruto was the easiest and the hardest. The easiest to please, his face an open book; he also, Kakashi noted dryly, had an organization made up of S-Class missing-nin dedicated to finding and killing him.

Sakura was a little harder. A civilian from a decent family. Lonely, even after she’d met Ino. Probably taught that a good civilian girl should be quiet and demure and beautiful. But she was also the smartest of all three of his students and he was reminded of Obito when he saw her, desperate to fit in and gain acceptance. A clever civilian outsider who craved approval.

Sasuke was temperamental, selfish and so very lonely, driven only by his love and hatred of his brother. Kakashi grunted as he bit into his pencil and tasted the lead filling. The Uchiha Massacre did more than ruin Sasuke. It’d ripped his team apart.

Kakashi scowled. Too many variables, too many dangers. But he’d promised himself, promised that he would protect them and he would. No matter what.

Putting the pencil down, he picked up an ink brush at his side and a fresh sheet of rice paper. _Hatake Kakashi formally requests an audience with the Sandaime Hokage_...

* * *

 

Dressed in a musty old vest he’d dug out from the back of his closet and standard issue navy blue uniform, Kakashi felt much more like himself. He adjusted his mask and patted absently at a pocket-- where was _Icha Icha_ when he needed it.... 

Ah. Of course. He’d only started reading it once he left service and Kakashi-- younger Kakashi was still serving as ANBU Hound.

“Hatake-san?”

Kakashi looked up and blinked at the chuunin manning the desk. “You may enter now.”

He gave the man a nod and unfolded himself from the shadows, gesturing at the hidden ANBU behind the desk discreetly: _safe watch_. The doors opened in front of him and Kakashi stepped forward into the office of the most powerful man in the country.

“Hatake-kun,” Sandaime-sama said, puffing serenely at his pipe behind his desk. “It’s very good to see you.” How strange, to see the familiar smoke wreathe the Hokage’s hat and pipe at his mouth. Even stranger to think that Tsunade wasn’t sitting there, bellowing orders at him and smashing sake bottles.

“Hokage-sama,” Kakashi said and dropped into the standard crouch, fist over his heart in the proper salute. “I’ve come to beg forgiveness for my actions.”

“Forgiveness?” He could hear the eyebrow raise in the Sandaime’s voice. “What for?”

“I’ve come to tender my resignation from ANBU, effective immediately,” Kakashi said, staring down at an interestingly shaped knot on the floor, ignoring the soft flutters of chakra around him.  It looked a little like Pakkun’s nose. No doubt word would be out of his resignation before he stepped out of the office. ANBU could be terribly nosy like that. There was a long, long silence and his ankle started muttering protests.

“I see,” Sandaime finally said and Kakashi dared a quick glance up. The Hokage’s brow sucked contemplatively on his pipe, brow furrowed. “How have you come to this decision, Hatake-kun?”

“I--” Kakashi paused. “I joined when Minato-sensei gave up his life to protect the village,” he said quietly. “That was six years ago, Hokage-sama.” Kakashi paused again and thankfully, the Hokage remained silent, knowing that Kakashi took the time to collect his thoughts. “I have come to realize that my duty now lies not to the protection of the village in service to the Corps but somewhere else.”

“And what might that be?” Hokage-sama asked, tapping ashes out of his pipe. _Clink, clink, clink._

“To Sensei’s legacy.” Kakashi supposed he was laying it on a little too thick, reminding the Hokage that the Yondaime happened to be his teacher, but he would take every card he could get.

“Do you know what you’re asking, Hatake-kun?” Sandaime-sama asked gravely, setting down his pipe and steepling his old, wrinkled fingers.

He had never been more sure in his life. “Yes,” Kakashi said and dared to look up and straight at the older man’s eyes. He saw old, dark black eyes that had seen more than he and his younger self put together. Two wars and the rise of a village, reigning twice, more than any Kage in the history of the Hidden Villages. Solemn, impenetrable eyes that hinted at a strength that could topple mountains and gently guide a young child. He suddenly felt very, very young in the presence of those eyes.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” he repeated.

Sandaime-sama inhaled deeply and something in his eyes changed. “Then that’s settled. We’ll discuss the matter later in more detail, Kakashi-kun.”

Kakashi didn’t miss the use of his given name-- the Hokage approved! He hid the joy from his face, but his chakra flickered, excited. “I am humbled by your generosity,” Kakashi said and meant every word of it.

“I trust you’ll stay on until a replacement for your team has been picked?”

“Already taken care of,” Kakashi assured him, idly wondering what Genma would think of being promoted and with another infamous genius on his team.

* * *

 

“You’re lying,” Tenzou said flatly, not even bothering to look up from his whetstone. “Captain would never do that, not without telling us.”

“I’m telling you, I heard this straight from the Nara with the grasshopper mask, straight off of guard duty,” Genma said, fiddling with the wrappings on his legs.

“Nara Shikato needs to learn to keep his mouth shut,” Raidou said easily, lifting his chest-plate with a hand and holding it up to the light. “Cracked, _again_ ,” he muttered, squinting at the bright fluorescent light.

“If you didn’t go about charging at every enemy nin like an idiot, you wouldn’t be going through so many,” Genma said, ripping off tape with his teeth. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it’s a sack of shit,” Raidou said, letting his armor drop on the worktable with a thump. “The only person more devoted to the Corps is the Commander and we all know that Captain’s next in line for that anyway. ANBU’s his life.”

“He’s our Captain,” Tenzou said, as if it explained everything. Genma had to admit, the rumor did sound outlandish and no matter if Nara had sworn up, down and sideways that it was true. This was _Hatake Kakashi_ they were talking about. Only the Commander and a few of the veterans had served longer than him. Captain quitting would be-- be-- it would be like the sky suddenly turning green or the Uchiha suddenly turning nice. Impossible.

The three were given a quick rap on the door before the topic of their conversation sailed into the room, scroll in hand. “Yo,” he said.

“Captain,” Tenzou greeted him instantly.

Genma made a face at Raidou. _Yo?_ , he mouthed, senbon almost falling out of his mouth. Raidou shrugged in response, looking just as confused.

“Congratulations, Genma,” Hatake Kakashi said. “You’ve just been promoted to Captain of Delta Squad.”

This time the senbon really did fall out of his mouth.

* * *

 

“Dango?” Hatake Kakashi, son of the White Fang, former ANBU Hound, and student of the late Yondaime Hokage offered Uchiha Itachi a skewer.

“Thank you,” Itachi said politely and took it with slight, calloused hands.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Kakashi said vaguely, gesturing at the surroundings with a used skewer. The slight piece of wood looked positively lethal in his hands. “Would you like to join a top secret organization of ninja dedicated to keeping the peace for Konoha and get a cool tattoo?”

Itachi chewed on his sweets, considering the offer. “This is very sudden,” he said.

“Yeah,” Kakashi agreed, twirling the skewer in his hands. Some of the neighboring shinobi looked at him nervously; Itachi calmly sipped at his tea. “But I figured, you know, you’re young, talented and probably dying for a chance to really challenge yourself.”

“Not really,” Itachi said.

“Would you do it if I asked you to join only because I want to annoy my old teammates?”

Itachi seemed to briefly consider the idea, his brow puckering. “No.”

“Refusing my offer as a subtle act of rebellion against your Clan elders isn’t very smart,” Kakashi said easily, as if they were just discussing the weather. “Tea?” he offered, picking up the smoking teapot to the side.

“I don’t understand,” Itachi said and he picked up his cup, accepting a refill with lowered eyes. “Why are you doing this, Hatake-san?”

“Did you know your Uncle?” Kakashi asked suddenly, propping his chin on a hand.

“No,” Itachi said, seemingly undisturbed by the non-sequitur. “He passed away shortly before my time, during the Third Shinobi War.”

“Uchiha Obito,” Kakashi said in a quiet voice, putting the skewer down. “Was my teammate. And he asked me to protect the village, to protect the team and to help me, he gave me a gift.” He tapped at his forehead protector, slanted to cover his left eye. “I need your help to protect the village, Uchiha-kun.”

“But--”

For the first time during their conversation, Kakashi cut Itachi off, his voice impatient. “I know about your damned clan politics, Itachi. And I know that things are damned complicated right now and that they’re dragging you into the bloody mess, hoping you’ll be able to fix it, one way or another.” His voice softened and Kakashi tapped again at his forehead protector, this time on the engraved insignia. “The Clan is the Village and the Village is the Clan. Protect Konoha and protect the Uchiha, even if it means from themselves. Joining the Corps will help you, if you do it on your own terms.”

Itachi gave him a long, considering look and Kakashi could almost catch a flicker of red in dark black eyes. “You are very informed,” Itachi said.

“It’s my job to be,” Kakashi said grimly. “Things are coming to a head, Uchiha-kun. The Corps is being poisoned from the inside and there are rumors that the Uchiha are unhappy. Konoha will tear itself apart if everything comes to a head and it’s my job to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“The Corps?” Itachi asked delicately, sipping at his lukewarm tea.

“It’s very much tied with clan politics,” Kakashi said. “Other than that, I can’t say much.” The unsaid _but if you join_ hung heavy in the air.

“My Father would be pleased with my acceptance,” Itachi said, tapping idly on his tea cup. _I accept_ , Kakashi heard, the soft clink of nail on porcelain resolving itself into a message.

“I’m sure he would be,” Kakashi said, fiercely relieved that the gamble he had made paid. He hid a feral grin under his mask. Danzou had better watch out.

* * *

 

“Captain?”

“Not your Captain anymore,” Kakashi corrected Tenzou gently, shifting over on the bed to make room. His kunai were all sealed and packed, armor and ninjato carefully packed into a trunk with Sensei’s kunai, Father’s tanto and Obito’s goggles. He still had to deal with the linen, the wall hangings Kushina-san had given him and...

“Is there something wrong?” Kakashi asked nonchalantly, carefully monitoring Tenzou’s chakra.

“Cap-- Hatake--” Tenzou made a choked sort of noise. “I don’t know what you are anymore,” he said, sounding wretched.

“Hatake Kakashi,” he said and carefully telegraphed his move, letting Tenzou see the reassuring pat come. “And your friend.”

“But you’re leaving--”

“No one ever really _leaves_ ANBU,” Kakashi said and awkwardly rubbed Tenzou’s shoulder. By the Shodai, he’d forgotten how young Tenzou was. Fifteen, sixteen? Uncomfortable in his own skin and wary of the world; he’d forgotten how skittish Tenzou had been when he was younger. How Orochimaru had carved uncertainty and fear into his heart and then abandoned him to an unknown world.

“I’ll still be around,” he promised, entertaining thoughts of murdering Orochimaru in the back of his head. “I’m just moving down to the apartment complex a few blocks over, you know, in the subsidized housing area in the Bunkyo ward. You’re welcome to visit any time you’d like,” he said.

“Thank you,” Tenzou said awkwardly, shoulders hunched. “Ha-- Hatake-san.”

“Senpai,” Kakashi corrected. “You’re still my kouhai, aren’t you, rookie?”

“Of course, Kakashi-senpai.” Tenzou gave him a watery smile and Kakashi was struck by an idea.

“Tenzou,” he said quietly. “Have you noticed them?” The boy’s chakra flickered. “So you have, then,” Kakashi said, more than a little proud.

“They...they remind me of some of the others...the others that _He_ worked on,” Tenzou said in a very quiet voice, face as white as a ghost.

“Yes,” Kakashi said grimly. “They do seem strange, don’t they? Always conveniently there to replace a fallen member, and each one of them has been nominated by Shimura Danzou for acceptance into the service.”

Tenzou’s face, if at all possible, whitened even more. “You don’t mean--?”

“ANBU is changing,” Kakashi said. “And not for the better. Keep an eye out for me, Tenzou.”

“Of course, sir,” Tenzou said obediently. “Kakashi-senpai,” he added a beat later and Kakashi was tempted to ruffle the boy’s hair. _Pack_ , the voice in the back of his mind whispered. _Protect the pack_.

* * *

 

“...ANBU guards will be assigned to watch him during your absences. I trust you’ve drawn up the appropriate seals for the apartment?”

Kakashi withdrew a packet from his flak vest and handed it over to the Hokage. “It’s not the best I can do, but given the time frame and materials, I could only come up with so much,” he said apologetically, beating back the urge to kick the floor like some genin. “I’ll do much better with more time and a better sense of Uzumaki,” he added hastily, watching the Hokage’s bushy brows slowly rise towards his receding hairline.

“This is very impressive work,” the Sandaime said, fingers tracing the kanji with an expert touch.

“It’s adequate,” Kakashi shrugged. Now if he _really_ had the time and chakra-blood ink and some of Minato-sensei’s books, he could do proper justice to those security seals. He had one in mind that would cauterize shut the chakra coils of any intruders and another interesting one that electrocuted at a wrong touch.

“More than adequate,” the Hokage said and handed the packet pack to Kakashi. “The funds will be wired to your account on a monthly basis and you are given a two month leave from the active duty roster to adjust to your new role.” Kakashi nodded, expecting as much.

“Anything else, Hokage-sama?”

“This is very sudden of you, Kakashi-kun,” the Hokage said, folding his hands together and settling them in his lap.

Kakashi blinked. “Sir?”

“You’ve served me very well as a shinobi, Kakashi-kun, as a jounin of Konoha and as an ANBU operative. But never before now have you showed any interest in Naruto-kun.”

Kakashi’s chest tightened as he considered his options. Twenty year old Kakashi was perfectly happy to ignore the face of his dead sensei come back to life, throwing himself into every available mission. No wonder that the Hokage thought his actions strange; they _were_ , for his younger self. He could lie, make up a tale about how he’d befriended Naruto; mutter something about forgiveness and remembering the past.

Or he could tell the truth. “Minato-sensei was--” Kakashi began slowly and then stopped, caught by uncertainty. “After-- after Father passed, he became...” He searched for the right words to explain how Minato had kept Kakashi alive, had taken him in and gave him a purpose. “Family,” he considered, but that wasn’t quite right too, it didn’t explain how Minato-sensei had taught him how to kill a man in order to protect the village, in order to protect himself. It didn’t explain how Minato-sensei had _chosen_ Kakashi and how Kakashi had chosen him.

Sandaime-sama knew where this was heading; Kakashi could smell the grief on him, fresh as it was six years ago in the wake of Kyuubi’s attack. “Minato-sensei was gone and that meant everyone was gone.” Everyone in his pack, dead and Kakashi had nothing to live, no pack to protect and live for. “I was selfish and I didn’t want to think about Naruto, about Sensei’s son. I couldn’t bear to look at him and see everyone I’d lost,” Kakashi said in a low voice, shame trickling through. “I joined ANBU and for six very long years, I did the best I could. To forget. To protect the village, like sensei and Obito wanted me to.”

Sandaime-sama nodded. “I understand, Kakashi-kun,” he said quietly.

Kakashi shook his head. There was more to tell and it was strangely cathartic to hear it aloud, to have the Hokage listen and understand. “The last mission was....difficult,” he said. “I was very tired and emotionally compromised. I should have refused the mission, if only for the safety for my team, but I went and tried to complete it, only to be caught in a genjutsu. It was careless of me.” He looked down at his gloved hands, unable to bear looking at the Hokage. “It was a very good one,” he said blankly. “The more experienced the shinobi, the better the illusion. It brought all the worst fear and terrors out of the mind and made them real. It was only due to the skill of my team that I woke up with my mind intact.”

Kakashi rubbed at the armored plate on his glove absently. “I saw Naruto in there, abandoned and alone. Minato-sensei was pack and Naruto is his son. Naruto’s _pack_ ,” he said. “I have a duty to him.”

“He would be very proud of you,” the Hokage said quietly.

Kakashi, for all that he was thirty years old and a hardened jounin, clung to words like a child clung to a blanket. “Thank you, sir,” he said, voice thickening only slightly.

“You may find it a duty to his father, but my hope is that you will grow to care for him on his own merits,” the Hokage continued, dark eyes piercing.

Kakashi smiled for the first time since he entered the sealed room. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, Hokage-sama,” he assured him and made a note to stop by Ichiraku later tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _He’s_ in there,” the matron said, jerking her head towards the closet. “Knows he’s in trouble so he’s gone and disappeared himself, quick-like.”  
  
“Frogs in the beds,” Kakashi guessed, judging by the high pitched screaming from the next room over.  
  
“Snakes and spiders,” the matron sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “Uzumaki Naruto,” she said sternly, her voice rising. “There’s someone here to meet you. Get out of the closet, quickly!”  
  
“Dun wanna!”  
  
“Uzumaki, if you don’t get out in five seconds--”  
  
Kakashi laid a hand on her arm and smiled at her. “I’ll handle this, Hori-san,” he said pleasantly and made his casual way towards the door, hands shoved into his pockets.  
  
“He’s a stubborn brat,” the matron warned him, her dark eyes looking at him beadily. “Bad enough that he’s the damned--”  
  
Kakashi’s pleasant smile turned a shade harder. “I believe that’s enough,” he said quietly and the air in the room suddenly became much, much heavier. “You may leave now.”  
  
The matron swallowed and gripped at her pink apron, knuckles whitening. “Of course, Hatake-san,” she said stiffly and swept out of the room without a second glance.  
  
Kakashi leaned against the closet door and watched her go with a wary eye, making sure that her chakra signature moved _away_ from the room. “You can come out now,” he said after a long moment. “She’s gone away to deal with your prank.”  
  
The door opened a crack and Kakashi obliged, moving out of the way. He crouched down and caught the tiniest sliver of a blue eye looking up at him. _Naruto_. For a long moment, his heart caught in his throat and he couldn’t think of anything to say. _I’m sorry sorry I failed you and the pack sorry sorry sorry_. He cleared his throat instead.  
  
“Who’re you?” the boy behind the door asked rudely, blue eye keen.  
  
“Hatake Kakashi,” Kakashi said automatically and a small part of him was bemused at how high pitched and squeaky Naruto’s voice was. It was familiar, in a way Naruto at sixteen wasn’t; he’d missed seeing his student grow and change, and when he’d come back in black and orange, his deepened voice had been a bit of an unpleasant shock.  
  
“That’s a weird name,” Naruto said suspiciously.  
  
“So’s Naruto,” Kakashi countered, rocking back on his heels.  
  
“Is not! Naruto’s the coolest name in the village,” Naruto said fiercely and in his excitement pushed open the door, nearly clipping Kakashi’s nose. “Uzumaki Naruto,” he boasted, jabbing a thumb at his skinny chest. “Number one prankster!”  
  
“Snakes and spiders, hmm? Anyone can do that,” Kakashi said and narrowly missed an enthusiastic flailing arm in his eye for it.  
  
“Jiro couldn’t and he was the one who dared me cause he’s a dumb sissy,” Naruto said enthusiastically, hopping up and down in his dirty and bedraggled sandals. “But I did and it’s the greatest bestest prank ever, so there!”  
  
“I bet you could do better,” Kakashi said and without even realizing it, reached out and ruffled Naruto’s hair. The boy squawked and beat at his arm with his tiny hands and Kakashi felt something soft and warm settle in the bottom of his chest.  
  
“What’re you being so nice to me for anyhow?” Naruto said after recovering from the hair ruffling attack, looking up with vaguely suspicious eyes. “Big people’re never nice to me.”  
  
In the back of Kakashi’s head, he quietly resolved to find every person who’d been cruel to his student and kill them slowly. “Well,” he said, scratching the back of his head casually. “I’m not a very nice person.”  
  
“So you ain’t being nice?” Naruto scrunched up his nose. “You’re so weird.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kakashi agreed. “What do you say we go have some ramen?”  
  
Naruto looked up at him, mouth wide open. It was possible that stars began to glow in his eyes. “ _Ramen_ ,” he whispered up at the older man reverently. “We’re gonna eat ramen?”  
  
“Well, if you want to,” Kakashi said, looking faintly worried.  
  
Naruto launched himself at Kakashi’s legs and nearly bowled him over. “Yeah!!” he cheered. “Ramen, ramen, ramen!”  
  
Kakashi’s hand hovered hesitantly over Naruto’s back before it settled down on a bony shoulder, patting it gently, if a little awkwardly. “There’s this ramen stand on Main St. that I’ll think you’ll like, Naruto-kun. It’s called Ichiraku and...”

* * *

 

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot,” Kakashi said, tilting his head curiously.  
  
“Cap- Kakashi-senpai!” Tenzou said and he rocked a little nervously on his feet, which for him was very nearly the equivalent of him clutching his chest dramatically. “I didn’t realize you were standing behind me.”  
  
“Well, you were looking so intently at the door.” Kakashi shrugged and a bag of groceries swung gently in his hand. “Would you like to come in?”  
  
Tenzou gave him a small smile. “I’d like that, senpai,” he said quietly. He stepped back from the apartment door as Kakashi casually flicked through a series of hand seals, the doorjamb glowing a dull blue for a brief moment before fading back to a normal brown.  
  
“A-rank security seals, senpai,” Tenzou noted, his dark eyes keen.  
  
“I have important things that I’d like to keep an eye on,” Kakashi said and opened the door. Within seconds, his important thing collided violently with his knees, a blur of yellow and orange and brown fur.  
  
“KAKASHI-NII-SAN,” Naruto bellowed and Ryou added to the chaos with his own happy yips. “YOU’RE HOME!”  
  
“Hello, Naruto-kun,” Kakashi said mildly and bent down, patting Naruto’s spiky hair. The bag of groceries hit the floor with a clunk and Ryou’s ears picked up. _Food food food food_ , he barked excitedly and dashed over to the bag.  
  
“Hey, hey,” Kakashi protested as Ryou dug through the bag with his large black nose. “Ryou, no, that’s going to be our dinner.” Tenzou rescued their food with a deft hand, winding his way around Ryou’s wriggling body with an ease that came with long experience.  
  
“Hello, Ryou-chan,” Tenzou greeted the dog warmly, scratching at his tattered ears. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Ryou agreed enthusiastically, drooling spectacularly all over his kouhai’s face. You would hardly think that he was a ferocious hundred pound ninken if you looked at him now, wriggling about like an overgrown puppy.  
  
“Hey, hey, nii-san, who’s this?” Naruto regarded Tenzou with curiosity, twisting around Kakashi’s legs to peer up at the stranger with wide eyes. “He’s a ninja!” he shouted, catching Tenzou’s forehead protector. “Like you, Kakashi-nii-san!”  
  
Tenzou’s eyes widened a fraction and he gave Kakashi a _look_. Kakashi smiled back at him, his eye curving cheerfully. “Naruto-kun, this is Tenzou. He’s a friend of mine.”  
  
Interest piqued, Naruto sidled up to the older boy, hands clasped behind his back. “You’re Kakashi-nii-san’s friend?” he asked seriously.  
  
“He’s my senpai,” Tenzou just as gravely and bent down a little, bracing his hands on his thighs.  
  
“A senpai? Whassa senpai?”  
  
“Like a friend,” Tenzou considered, his eyes thoughtful. “But also like an older brother, too. Someone’s who’s more experienced and older than you at school or at work.”  
  
“Huh,” Naruto said and then tugged expectantly on Tenzou’s pants. “Come on, I’ll show you the cool shuriken nii-san bought me! They’re super sharp so’s we have to extra extra careful but Kakashi-nii said we could train with them and then next year I’m going to go to the Academy and become a ninja like you and nii-san...”  
  
Kakashi watched with a quiet amusement as Naruto dragged a rather overwhelmed Tenzou to his room, Ryou following the two obediently, tail wagging. _Protect them_ , the voice in the back of head whispered. _You promised_.  
  
He thought this was a good start.

* * *

 

  
“He’s...” Tenzou groped for the right words, cupping his mug of tea.  
  
Kakashi nodded in agreement. “He’s Naruto,” he said simply and sipped at his tea.  
  
“He reminds me of Uzumaki-san,” Tenzou said, absently rubbing the rim of his cup. “She was very kind to me when-- when Yondaime-sama brought me to the hospital.”  
  
It was hard to describe Kushina-san. Bright and angry and so strong. She’d bought him ramen and read him _The Tale of The Gutsy Ninja_ during hospital stays; she was the one who had taught him his first seal, a simple protective symbol that could be carved into wood. And so very much like her son, Uzumaki Naruto. “Naruto reminds me of her,” Tenzou said wistfully. “When he smiles...” Tenzou’s eyes sharpened and he looked up at Kakashi, eyes missing nothing.  
  
“You left for him.” It wasn’t a question.  
  
Kakashi's silence was answer enough.  
  
Tenzou breathed out slowly and then smiled, hiding it behind a quick sip of tea. “It’s good to see you of the armor,” he said.  
  
“How’s Genma doing?” Kakashi asked lazily, accepting Tenzou’s tacit approval.  
  
“Terribly well,” Tenzou grinned and Kakashi could see traces of Yamato’s demon face in his eyes; the rookie was growing up. “He hates it of course, complaining about the paperwork and the responsibility, but he’s doing well.”  
  
Genma was already mothering the team as it was; the position just gave him a little more authority to do so. Kakashi was silently grateful that he didn’t have to listen to Genma nag about chakra exhaustion at him. “And the rookie?”  
  
“Bugs in his locker, mud on his armor and fake exploding tags on his kunai,” Tenzou said proudly, looking very glad to lose rookie status after a good eight months of ribbing from the other members of Delta Squad.  
  
“I bet he’s enjoying that,” Kakashi said dryly.  
  
“He set this genjutsu on Raidou-san when we were at the mess hall, made him think he was talking to Kyoko-san,” Tenzou said, eyes bright. The tea sloshed a little in his cup as he leaned back in his chair in satisfaction. “He was flirting with a salt shaker, the entire time.”  
  
Clever, clever Itachi. “He’s a good boy,” Kakashi said. “Even if he did beat my record.”  
  
“He’s not as good as you, of course,” Tenzou said loyally. “Though he’s very good on the field.” That was high praise from a boy who could raise grow a forest within minutes and kill a man with a twig.  
  
“He’s very polite, very helpful,” Kakashi said and set his tea down, casually checking Naruto’s chakra to make sure he was asleep. “A good person to have by your side.”  
  
“Oh?” Tenzou replied lightly but his interested face betrayed him. “I’d noticed that you were the one to nominate him for service.”  
  
“Well, I couldn’t let someone else come and lead him astray, could I? He needed a challenge and I gave him one.”  _Before he found something else to do, like massacring his entire family._  
  
“Itachi’d been talking about a new dango place that opened in Sumiya,” Tenzou said thoughtfully. “Lunch there might be interesting.”  
  
“Yes, I would think so,” Kakashi agreed. “Everything else going smoothly?”  
  
“Commander called a mandatory meeting yesterday.”  
  
Kakashi raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh?” he said mildly.  
  
“Councilman Danzou was with him,” Tenzou said. “They wanted to speak about the difficult times and how the village could only be as strong as the shadows that protected it. Typical morale boosting, though Commander didn’t look very happy to be there.”  
  
“And right after I’ve left,” Kakashi said, leaning on the back two legs of his chair. “So inconsiderate of the man.”  
  
“You and Commander are the only ones he’s ever really been scared of,” Tenzou said, looking intently at the wooden table separating the two. “And now that you’ve left, Commander’s tied up with Council politics.”  
  
“How many new members?”  
  
“Four.”  
  
Kakashi hummed, noncommittal. Altogether (judging by the personnel files Kakashi had discreetly looked through after his visit to the Hokage. He couldn’t help it if the secret records room was so poorly secured. It was practically begging to be opened.) that made about a tenth of ANBU, with ten active operatives and who knew how many more Danzou had smuggled in even more discreetly and was in the process of training?  
  
“And me only gone a week,” Kakashi said. No doubt Danzou was quickly capitalizing on his absence, though he wondered what the spies were thinking of Kakashi’s sudden domestic turn. Probably nothing good.  
  
“Well, I didn’t want to do this,” Kakashi sighed, pained, and picked up his now tepid cup of tea, knocking it back down in one quick swallow. “But Danzou’s just asking for it, isn’t he?”  
  
Tenzou looked like a rabid wolf had just cornered him. “I’m very, very glad that I’m not Councilman Danzou right now.”  
  
“Yes, that’s probably a good thing,” Kakashi said, nodding serenely. “Otherwise, I would have to cut your stomach and strangle you with your own intestines.”  
  
Tenzou choked on his tea.

* * *

 

  
“Math is _stupid_ ,” Naruto said, flinging himself dramatically onto the couch and knocking Kakashi’s brand new copy of _Icha Icha Paradise_ onto the floor.  
  
“I was reading that,” Kakashi said mildly. “How was school today?”  
  
“ _Boooooring_ ,” Naruto said, stretching out the word with feeling. “I wanna go to the Academy and learn cool jutsu and stuff, not the stupid boring school with _math_.”  
  
“How’re you going to know how many kunai you have left if you don’t know math?” Kakashi asked, picking up his book from the floor, reflexively checking that Naruto hadn’t seen the erotic illustration of Keiko on page sixty nine.  
  
“Whatever,” Naruto said dismissively and wiggled over to Kakashi’s lap, planting his bony elbows on the older man’s thighs, not catching the way the silver-haired man stiffened. “All we do is sit down and it’s stupid, I hate it,” he said.  
  
“Ah,” Kakashi said and mentally referred to _Raising Children: A Shinobi’s Guide to Rearing, Ages 6-12._ “Why is it stupid?” he asked delicately, wondering if there was a way to hammer the idea of PERSONAL SPACE into a child’s head without sharp, pointy objects. His own father had rarely touched him and Kakashi had become a genin at age five and thrown into war, where the only time he touched someone was to kill them. He’d often had to remind himself that ruffling hair and hugs were a way express affection, instead of a tool to purposely annoy his students.  
  
Naruto muttered something inaudible.  
  
Kakashi gently patted Naruto’s head. “Is it Keigo again?”  
  
Naruto looked up at him with watery blue eyes and snot trickling out of his grubby nose. “He says Ima demon monster and tha’ I’m worse than dirt and and and--” He buried his face into Kakashi’s flak vest and started crying great heaving sobs.  
  
First, Kakashi thought distantly, I’m going to hunt down Keigo’s parents and put them under the most painful genjutsu I can think of and then cut off all the limbs in front of their son. Then I’m going to--  
  
“Am I” Naruto wailed, hands clutching Kakashi’s shirtsleeve. “I dun wanna be a monster, Kakashi-nii, I’m not a monster, I dun wanna, I-- I--”  
  
“You’re not a monster,” Kakashi said firmly and rubbed Naruto’s back in rough circles. “You’re a six year old boy who likes ramen and pranking too much to be a monster. Keigo’s wrong, Naruto-kun. He’s _wrong_."  
  
“Bu’ why does everyone hate me?” Naruto sniffled, dribbling snot and tears and saliva all over his vest. Kakashi supposed that it was better than blood and piss.  
  
“That, I can’t tell you,” Kakashi said after a long silence. “It’s very complicated and it’s something I can only tell you when you’re much older. But, I _can_ tell you that not everyone hates you. What about me? And Sandaime-sama? And Tenzou? And Ryou?”  
  
“Really? You don’t-- you don’t hate me?” Naruto said hopefully and scrambled upright in his lap, craning his neck up to meet Kakashi’s eyes.  
  
“I could never hate you,” Kakashi said quietly and gently wiped Naruto’s nose with the end of his sleeve.  
  
“I don’t hate you neither,” Naruto said a little shyly and launched himself at Kakashi’s neck, squeezing tight.  
  
If Obito’s eyes started secreting tears, well, Kakashi figured it was the Sharingan acting up again, chakra coils irritated. He ignored the fact that his other eye, his normal one, was tearing up as well. Just dust. Chakra irritation. His arms closed around Naruto’s tiny body and held him tight.

* * *

 

“Hey Forehead, what’re you reading? Some dumb book again, huh? Gonna be a ninja, dumb Forehead girl like you?”  
  
Dust rose up in her eyes and Sakura blinked furiously, trying to hide behind the large book she’d borrowed from the library.  
  
“Look, she’s trying to hide her big ugly face behind the book. Too bad it’s too small to cover it!”  
  
Sakura shrank even more and desperately wished that the ground would open and swallow her; she’d read about some jutsu that could do that but she didn’t know the hand seals or have the chakra. She was just some dumb civilian girl with a big ugly face. Even when she scrunched her eyes tight, the tears came.  
  
“Look, look! The dumb girl’s crying, look at her stupid crying face.”  
  
More dust came flying at her and little pebbles and sticks, some thrown hard enough to scrape her cheeks.  
  
“You can’t hide from us, Ugly Forehead--”  
  
“You big dumb bully!”  
  
Sakura peeked up from behind her book and saw a small blond whirlwind rocket into Ami’s face, fists flying furiously. “You shut up about her!” Ami staggered back, blood spurting from her nose, knocking Miko and Kyoko right onto the ground.  
  
“My knee!” Miko screeched, clutching piteously at the tiny scrape on her leg.  
  
 _Good_ , Sakura thought viciously and lowered her book even more.  
  
“You stupid demon monster!” Ami shrieked, clutching her nose. “I’m going to tell papa and he’s going to hurt you so bad!”  
  
“Nyah nyah nyah!” The blond boy sneered, sticking his tongue out and stuffing his thumbs in his ears. Sakura stifled a giggle. “Tattletale, tattletale, run away tattletale,” he chanted, hopping from one foot to another. Ami gave him one murderous look before stomping away, Miko and Kyoko quick to jump up and follow obediently at her heels.  
  
“You ok?” Her blond hero scratched his head sheepishly and up close, Sakura could see that it was Uzumaki Naruto, class clown and troublemaker from the Temple school. He always played by himself and made stupid fart jokes and none of the girls liked him, ‘specially stupid Ami. But he _had_ called Ami dumb and punched her nose, saving Sakura. She put down her book and swallowed nervously.  
  
“Thank you,” she muttered and patted her bangs down over her forehead.  
  
“Hey, hey, I’m Naruto, wha’s your name?”  
  
“Sakura,” she said shyly and stood up, wiping the dust off her face with a grubby sleeve. “We’re in class together at school,” she added in a quiet voice.  
  
“Eh?” Naruto squinted at her and leaned in, whiskers all scrunched up. “We are?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sakura nodded. “You got in trouble today for punching Keigo, remember?”  
  
“Kakashi-nii said if I had a reason then I can punch anyone all the time ever!” Naruto said defiantly, hands at his hips, chest puffed out.  
  
“Really?”  
  
Naruto deflated. “I think so?” He scratched his head. “Kakashi-nii used lotsa long words and stuff but he def’nitely said I could punch him.”  
  
“My Mama doesn’t like it when I get dirty and fight,” Sakura offered and poked at her dirty dress a little sadly.  
  
“But getting dirty and punching is the bestest ever!” Naruto said, hopping up and down on his feet. “Hey, hey, hey, you wanna play with me? We have a ninken back home and lotsa cool books and Kakashi-nii got me shuriken and stuff so’s I can train and become the Hokage!”  
  
“Ninken?” Sakura asked, her ears pricking up. “Isn’t that like a ninja dog?”  
  
“Yup,” Naruto grinned and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Wanna come?”  
  
Sakura considered the boy in front of her, grubby with dirt all over his face and a big open grin and blood on his knuckles. “Okay,” she said and gave him a small smile.

* * *

 

“This is very sudden,” Sandaime-sama said, his face unreadable.  
  
Kakashi shrugged. “It is my right, Hokage-sama,” he said simply, standing easily in front of the most powerful man in the Five Shinobi Nations without batting a lash.  
  
“Of course,” Sandaime-sama said slowly. “But there hasn’t been one in over fifteen years, Kakashi-kun.”  
  
“Well, then I guess it’s about time that I’ve gotten around to the duty, right?” Kakashi asked vaguely, surreptitiously flicking through the pages of _Icha Icha_ in his hand.  
  
“Are you sure? This will be quite a surprise to many of the Council members.”  
  
“Good to keep people on their toes,” Kakashi said, eye curving up.  
  
Sandaime-sama smiled, the craggy lines of his face shifting subtly. “Oh, I think I’ll very much enjoy having you around, Kakashi-kun.”

* * *

 

The seat in between the Uchiha and Hyuuga had lain empty for over fifteen years, a constant reminder of the consequences of one misstep. Over the years, members of the Council came and went but the seat stayed empty, the clan reduced to a member of one who refused the title of head. There were discreet running bets on when the chair would disappear and judging by the one ninja left in the clan, Fugaku figured it was only a matter of time before the chair would be replaced by one of the other clans competing for a seat on the Council.  
  
Needless to say, it was a surprise when a cloud of smoke suddenly swirled around the Hatake chair next to him and a body puffed into existence. Fugaku had a kunai at the intruder’s throat and Sharingan activated before he realized that he was looking at Hatake Kakashi’s masked face.  
  
“Yo,” the boy said cheerfully, ignoring the blade at his jugular. “Sorry I’m late, I had to help an old lady cross the street.”  
  
Fugaku lowered his arm robotically and sheathed his weapon. Every single Clan head at the table stared at the suddenly occupied chair.  
  
“Ah,” Sandaime-sama said calmly. “Hello, Hatake-dono.”  
  
“Hokage-sama,” Hatake Kakashi greeted. “Uchiha-dono,” he said, inclining his head at Fugaku. “Great reflexes,” he said happily.  
  
“Hatake Kakashi,” Fugaku said dully and he could see Hiashi, the pale-eyed bastard, reflexively grip his armrests, knuckles whitening.  
  
“What’re you doing here, whelp?” Tsume snarled from across the table. The Inuzuka always had a touchy relationship with the Hatake, feeling that the Hatake infringed upon their territory and abilities. His father had told him this over dinner a long, long time ago, when Hatake Sakumo had sat on Council meetings but it had become irrelevant when Fugaku had taken the Uchiha seat, Sakumo long gone and Kakashi too young. It seemed that would no longer be the case.  
  
“Well,” Hatake drawled, arranging himself bonelessly in the uncomfortable hardwood chair. “What do you think I’m here for?”  
  
“You’ve had the right to attend Council meetings and take upon the duties of Clan Head since you were fifteen, but you’ve never chosen to exercise it before,” Shikaku said from his seat near the Hokage at the head of the table, dark eyes curious.  
  
“ _Well_ , now that it’s declassified, I can safely say that I was serving ANBU at the time and could not properly carry out my duties,” Kakashi said, looking supremely bored. Fugaku could see a hint of orange peeking out from the jounin’s vest pocket.  
  
“You have no clan to speak of,” Aburame spoke quietly from his seat, glasses reflecting the fluorescent light. “You are Head of nothing, leader of a family long gone.”  
  
“Now, that is very rude,” Kakashi said reprovingly, hands laced together on the table. “I’ll have you know I’ve recently adopted a ward.”  
  
Danzou, the power-grabbing warmonger, finally spoke up, Fugaku noted with ill-hidden distaste. “You have managed to gain custody of the Nine Tails,” the old frog croaked. “He is a weapon, not some orphan you can pick off the streets.”  
  
Fugaku could see degrees of shock flicker across every face in the room, with the exception of the Hokage and Hatake himself. _Interesting_ , he mused and filed the thought away for further consideration.  
  
“Well, for a supposed weapon, he’s been treated like shit,” Hatake said, leaning his head back on the chair. “The Yondaime would have wanted the Village to protect and care for him, as the hero he rightly is.”  
  
“What would you know of the Yondaime’s wishes?” Tsume snarled, claws tapping on the table scored with kunai and years of ink-marks.  
  
“Hatake was the former student of Namikaze Minato, the Yondaime Hokage,” Fugaku interrupted and played his first card. “Inuzuka-dono.” Tsume bared her canines at him.  
  
“The Nine Tails has been present in the Village since the Shodai’s time,” Shikaku put in lazily. “A weapon that all the other hidden villages have feared. The only difference is that now the entire village knows about it, instead of just the Council. The Yondaime gave us our greatest gift back to us with the cost of his life.”  
  
“It’s only right we should take care of him and treat him not only as a weapon but as the child he is,” Kakashi said. “He’s six.” The air in the room grew noticeably colder and Fugaku squashed the urge to flinch. By the Shodai, the bratling beside him was _strong_.  
  
“He is a threat to the village,” Danzou said, thumping his cane on the floor. “Either he should be eliminated or trained into the tool that he is.”  
  
“Shinobi may be tools,” Akimichi Chouza rumbled from his seat, “but in Konoha we treat our people with pride and respect. The boy is a _child_ and a gift from the Yondaime, as Shikaku-dono says.” Akimichi nodded his head at the Nara. Fugaku’s lip curled. Here was the infamous Ino-Shika-Cho alliance coming into play. “I accept Hatake Kakashi’s custody of the child.”  
  
It seemed that the boy had the trio on his side and was deliberately antagonizing Danzou. Fugaku considered the cards in his hands. Already, power was shifting in this room, all around this strange little boy. _The enemy of thine enemy is an ally,_ an old Iron war-philosopher had written and Fugaku certainly despised Danzou enough to consider him an enemy, always sidelining the power of the Uchiha and restricting their movements. He decided to go all in.  
  
“I move to accept Hatake Kakashi as Head of the Hatake Clan and a formal member of the Council,” he announced and quietly reveled in the sharp intakes of breath he could hear.  
  
“Motion recognized,” Sandaime-sama spoke for the first time, puffing away at his pipe. “Any seconding motions?”  
  
Nara raised his head. “I second.” Yamanaka and Akimichi nodded their heads as well, quietly muttering their assent. Next to Hatake, Hiashi tilted his head. “I also second this motion.” It was done-- five Clan Heads had accepted Hatake’s brat as well as the Hokage himself.  
  
With a keen eye, Fugaku realized that this was what the Hokage had planned from the start; already the alliances in the clan were shifting, the old ways gone and shattered to pieces when Kakashi had appeared into the room with a cheerful smile. _Clever_ , Fugaku allowed and cast a sidelong glance at Danzou.  
  
The old coot looked immeasurably displeased. Fugaku hid a smile. This would prove to be a very interesting month.

* * *

 

Kakashi leaned casually against the table as everyone filtered out of the room, meeting dismissed. “Sure pissed off the Councilman there,” he commented idly.  
  
Fugaku, the dry old stick, looked at him murderously. “The Councilman and I are not on the best of terms,” he said stiffly.  
  
“Yeah, me neither,” Kakashi agreed and crossed his arms across his chest. “Still gunning for the top, isn’t he?”  
  
“I wouldn’t know,” Fugaku sneered and pushed his chair in.  
  
“Know what I think?” Kakashi leaned in closer confidingly. “I think he totally has it in for you. Terrified of what you might do to him.”  
  
Without realizing it, Fugaku came closer as well. Kakashi hid a grin behind his mask. _Hook, line and sinker_. “With power, comes fear and respect. It’s only right that he feels such towards the Uchiha.”  
  
“Above all else, Danzou values loyalty,” Kakashi said cryptically, shrugging his shoulders. “Loyalty to _his_ Konoha.”  
  
“The Uchiha are sworn to serve the Hokage and the Village through an age-old alliance,” Fugaku said, red flickering in his eyes. “We are _loyal_.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Kakashi assured him, putting as much false flattery into his voice as he could muster. “After all, the village is the clan and the clan is the village. The Uchiha would only hurt themselves by going against Konoha.”  
  
“Of course,” Fugaku said, looking a little off-kilter.  
  
“Anyway, I wanted to thank you for what you did,” Kakashi continued, his eye curving. “You didn’t have to support me in my bid.”  
  
“It was for the benefit of the Council,” Fugaku said, his voice hard.  
  
“I appreciate it all the same, as does the Hokage,” Kakashi lied smoothly. “He knows what you’re trying to do, protecting the village and Naruto and all.”  
  
“Naruto?”  
  
“You know, _him_. My ward.” Kakashi brightened. “Say, would you like to visit him? You have a son around his age, don’t you?”  
  
“I-- yes.” Fugaku blinked. “His name’s Sasuke.” His face warmed a little and his lips curled up a fraction. “He’ll be attending the Academy next year,” he said proudly.  
  
Kakashi was a little astonished to see that the other man had some sort of heart. “Great!” he said cheerily, recovering quickly. “I’m sure they’d love to meet. How does next Sunday sound? Your place? Dinner?”  
  
“What?” Fugaku blinked again.  
  
“Great!” Kakashi made a hand seal and let chakra surge around him, enveloping him in a familiar embrace. “I’ll see you then, Fugaku-sama.”

* * *

 

Kakashi slouched, hands shoved tightly in his pocket. He’d forgotten how _exhausting_ it was to talk to people and pretend like he’d enjoyed it. He very much prefered hand signals and a threatening sharp pointy object in his hand. Clan Head. He rolled the idea around in his head, considering.  
  
He’d never taken up the job _before_ because, well, it had been his father’s job. And when he died, there was no point, not when the Hatake name was smeared with the blood of the Third Shinobi War. But now...for Naruto...for the people he died for....  
  
There were _two_ chakra presences inside the apartment. Kakashi instinctively palmed a kunai and pressed a palm against the seal, flooding it with chakra. They were undisturbed; Naruto had used the key and put his hand on the unlocking seal normally. His chakra was fine-- no sense of turmoil or anxiety. In fact, it looked _excited_. With a frown, Kakashi probed the two tiny flames in the house. The other presence was familiar, the signature like an old favorite shirt he’d lost but found again, hiding in some hidden corner of his drawer.  
  
The chakra spiked again and Kakashi’s heart caught in throat. _Sakura_. Hesitantly, he put his kunai away and unlocked the door, chest tight.  
  
“Naruto?” he called out, hoping that the boy didn’t catch the way his voice trembled. “I’m home--”  
  
“KAKASHI-NII!” came the familiar shout and a tangled mess of boy and dog scampered across the hallway and straight at his knees. He reflexively braced his feet with chakra and caught the two with careful, welcoming hands. “Hello, Naruto,” he said and for the first time all day, his guard slipped. “It’s very good to see you.”  
  
“YOU’RE BACK, YOU’RE BACK!” Naruto bellowed into his ear, Ryou enthusiastically licking his other one.  
  
“I’m here, I’m here,” Kakashi said and ruffled Naruto’s bright yellow hair. He looked up and caught a glimpse of something pink around the corner before it disappeared with a squeak. “Do you have something to tell me?” he asked, standing up and walking down the hallway, Naruto stuck to his leg like burr.  
  
“Oh yeah!” Naruto said, grinning so widely that his eyes turned into little blue slits. “I brought a friend over and her name is Sakura and she knows all the coolest things about ninja and we were playing with Ryou and and and--”  
  
Kakashi turned around the corner and caught sight of his little pink-haired student sitting politely at a kitchen chair, cheeks flushed a deep red. “Hello, Sakura-chan,” he said and smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you.”  
  
“Nice to meet you!” Sakura squeaked, covering her face with her hands. Naruto untangled himself from Kakashi leg and ran over to Sakura, nearly crashing right into the chair legs. “Hey, hey, hey Sakura-chan this is Kakashi-nii-san, he’s the bestest ever in the whole world ever and he’s the strongest ninja in the village!” The look of embarrassment shifted into wonder and Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck, inordinately pleased at the sight of his two little students before him.  
  
“Well, I’m not that great, Naruto-kun,” he said lamely. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”  
  
Sakura and Naruto brightened at the same time, pink and yellow twins. “I’d love to but my Mama--” Her face paled. “I forgot to tell Mama that I came over here to play.” Her green eyes filled up with tears and Naruto looked over at Kakashi, face pleading.  
  
Kakashi felt something in him give. “Alright, then we’ll just have to let her know then, ok?” he said and bit down on his thumb, hands running through seals with an easy familiarity. He slammed his hand down on the floor and when the smoke cleared, he could see Pakkun’s familiar grouchy face. “Boss,” Pakkun drawled and Kakashi could hear Sakura and Naruto’s twin gasps of surprise.  
  
“Pakkun,” Kakashi grinned, chakra spiking with pleasure. “It’s good to see you.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” the dog muttered and twisted around, giving Naruto and Sakura a suspicious look. “You whelped? _You_?”  
  
“I’ll explain later,” Kakashi muttered hurriedly and gestured over at Naruto. “Pencil and paper please, Naruto-kun.” Naruto scampered off to the desk in the living room and came back panting, pencil clenched in his mouth and stacks of paper in his hands.  
  
He accepted it with a muttered thanks and scrawled a quick note to Haruno-san, saying that Sakura was playing with Naruto and would stay over for dinner and he would personally escort her home later. Kakashi signed it with a flourish and a tiny henohenomoheji and rolled it up.  
  
“Take this over to Haruno Sakura’s mother. Sakura, where do you live?”  
  
“Bunkyo Ward, Cherry Tree St, Number 676,” Sakura recited, hands clasped together on her lap.  
  
“There,” Kakashi said and handed the paper over to Pakkun. “Straight to Sakura-chan’s mother, you understand?”  
  
“You owe me an explanation,” Pakkun growled with feeling and disappeared in a puff of smoke.  
  
“Woah,” Naruto breathed, his eyes glazed with awe. “That was so _cool_ , Nii-chan! I WANNA LEARN TO DO THAT.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid,” Sakura whispered at him, equally awed. “That’s a summoning technique. Only super advanced ninja know that!”  
  
“I’m not stupid!” Naruto whispered back furiously.  
  
“Stop acting like you are!” Sakura shot back. “We’ll learn when we become ninja later. When we’re _older_.”  
  
Kakashi looked at his two students before him and smiled, listening to the squabbling with a blissful expression. It was good to be home.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“We look so stupid,” Naruto said in his best imitation of an indoor voice, which was a little less than shouting for other people.  
  
“We’re having dinner with some very nice people,” Kakashi said, sounding like he was walking to his own funeral. He tugged irritably at the dark blue scarf he’d wound around his neck; he’d dug it up from the bottom of a box where he kept all of his old clothes. What had possessed him to invite himself over into _enemy_ territory? Kakashi had distinct fantasies of two body bags being carried out of the Uchiha district, sized perfectly to fit him and Naruto.  
  
“Shirt itches,” Naruto whined and tugged at the hem of the formal white shirt Kakashi had shoved him into with threats of no ramen for a month.  
  
“Deal with it,” Kakashi snapped back and tried not to touch the kunai he’d slipped up his sleeves. _No permanent damage_ , he reminded himself and straightened his back as they approached the gate leading to the district. He gave the two bored-looking sentries a cheerfully fake smile. “Afternoon,” he said. “Lovely weather isn’t it?”  
  
“State your name and business,” one of the guards said, flicking his dark eyes distastefully over Kakashi’s blue scarf and mask, long-sleeved black shirt and black pants. Naruto, mercifully, stayed quiet.  
  
“Hatake Kakashi, here to have dinner with Uchiha Fugaku,” Kakashi said and grabbed Naruto’s shoulder in warning when it looked like he would make a run back to the village. _Coward_ , he thought viciously, ignoring his own instinct to run back home.  
  
“Fugaku-sama is expecting you,” the sentry droned and Kakashi gave him a tight smile. “Course he is.” With a steel grip on Naruto, he shepherded him through the gates and into one of the most exclusive areas in Konoha. A bright red line of swinging lanterns met them, flames flickering in the evening wind. In the distance, Kakashi could laughter and the sound of steel ringing; over there, his nose detected an okonomiyaki stand, bustling with business.  
  
“Wow,” Naruto whispered, looking around him in awe. “It’s like a whole ‘nother village!”  
  
This, Kakashi thought grimly, was the Uchiha district as it should have been in his own time. Filled with life, families, children running around without care or worry. No wonder Sasuke had been driven to madness; his entire home had been wiped out in the span of a night at the age of _seven_. “The Niidaime granted the Uchiha this land as a gift for their faithful service to the village,” Kakashi said, old lectures from Minato-sensei rising up to the surface of his mind.  
  
“How many people live here?” Naruto wondered, trotting to keep up with Kakashi’s quick pace through Main street and towards the residential area.  
  
“Hundreds,” Kakashi replied distractedly and debated whether or not to put the two of them under a genjutsu, noticing the curious looks many of the Uchiha sent them. After a second, he decided against it-- the more witnesses that saw them coming in, the better. Much harder for Fugaku to murder them.  “There’s the main family, then several branch houses and some of the civilian families with close ties to the Uchiha clan that also live here.”  
  
“Main family and what?” Naruto asked, his hand gripping Kakashi’s tightly. The bustling crowds had thinned and the excitement of the shops faded away as the landscape shifted to accommodate more trees, ponds and the occasional house, roofs sweeping gracefully in the sky. Kakashi followed the path out of memory and occasionally checked the discreet chakra markers planted on the sides of the dirt road to make sure they were going to right direction.  
  
“Big clans, especially those with kekkei genkai, are divided up into several sections,” Kakashi said, tugging his forehead protector over Obito’s eye absently. “There’s the main, important family. They’re usually the strongest and hold the most power. The branch ones are not as strong and they don’t have as much money or status. Uchiha Fugaku, who we’re meeting for dinner, he’s the most important person here. He’s the head of the main family, which means he’s the head of the entire clan.”  
  
“That means he’s super powerful?” Naruto asked, nose scrunched up.  
  
“I guess so,” Kakashi hazarded, trying to ignore the way his heart was sinking into his stomach as Fugaku’s grand and beautiful house slowly came into view.  
  
“But he’s not as powerful as you, right Kakashi-nii-san?”  
  
Startled, Kakashi looked down at Naruto’s bright blue eyes, right at Minato-sensei’s eyes, wide and open and so trusting. “It’s hard to say,” Kakashi said after a long moment. “I haven’t fought him before.”  
  
“Don’t worry, nii-san,” Naruto said confidently, squeezing his hand tight. “I know you’re the bestest ninja in the whole world ever, you can definitely beat Fuguki!”  
  
“Fugaku,” Kakashi corrected automatically and wondered vaguely at the warmth that was rising in his chest.  
  
“Right, that’s what I said!”  
  
They reached the end of the path and Kakashi stood in front of the steps leading up to the magnificent sliding doors. It looked much the same as it did when he’d first come here, twelve years old and miserable, with Obito’s eye freshly implanted in his head and wondering if the Uchiha Clan Head would ask for his death. At least this time he was here for much more pleasant reasons.  
  
Kakashi flared his chakra once and felt two chakra signatures float over towards the door immediately. The doors slid open without a sound, revealing a kind-looking woman in a kimono and Itachi, dressed in a traditional collared shirt and old standard issue black pants.  
  
“Oh!” The woman pressed a hand against her mouth. “Please, forgive our manners, we were expecting you much later.”  
  
Kakashi prodded Naruto with his elbow. “Bow,” he hissed. Looking up at Uchiha Mikoto, he smiled and bowed as well. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Uchiha-san,” he said. “This is my ward, Uzumaki Naruto.” To his credit, Naruto only wobbled slightly when he bent over.  
  
“It’s very good to see you, Hatake-san,” Itachi remarked softly, dark eyes unreadable. “And you as well, Uzumaki-kun.”  
  
At Naruto’s curious look, Mikoto smiled hesitantly. “My son, Itachi,” she explained, a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder. “Please, come in. Welcome to our home.”  
  
The two trooped up the wooden stairs and entered a tastefully decorated anteroom covered with tatami mats. Kakashi shucked off his sandals and shoved them under a bench, picking up a pair of slippers that looked like they might fit him.  
  
“We have to change shoes?” Naruto whispered, looking very scandalized at the pink and white house slippers Kakashi was pulling on.  
  
“Do as I do, Naruto, and we may yet come out of this alive.” Kakashi hunted around for a pair in Naruto’s size and found a cheerful looking yellow one stamped with the Uchiha crest. “Take off your sandals and put these on, it’s the polite thing to do.”  
  
With ill grace, Naruto yanked off his beloved ninja sandals (he’d been so overjoyed when Kakashi had bought him the pair that he’d been struck speechless) and pushed them right next to Kakashi’s, his little feet dwarfed by Kakashi’s worn and dirty blue sandals.  
  
“Dinner will take a while,” Itachi said from the hallway leading out of the anteroom, his voice floating over to the whispering duo on the floor. “My Mother wishes to send her apologies for leaving her guests, but the rice needed tending to right away.”  
  
“Oh, not a problem,” Kakashi said, standing up in one smooth motion and tucking a squirming Naruto under an arm. “It’s our fault for coming so early.”  
  
Itachi smiled and gestured at them to follow. “I have a younger brother about the same age as you, Uzumaki-kun,” he said, leading them through labyrinthine maze of beautiful hardwood hallways and rice-paper sliding doors. Kakashi was vaguely reminded of the countless homes of lords he’d assassinated in the elegant simplicity of the lines. “His name is Sasuke and he’ll be attending the Academy next year.”  
  
Naruto perked up at the mention of the Konoha Ninja Academy. “Really? Me too! Kakashi-nii-san said I could go next year when I’m seven and I’m super super super excited to go!”  
  
“Perhaps you’ll be classmates,” Itachi mused gently and stopped in front of a unmarked rice paper door, two chakra signatures flickering behind it. “Father,” he said, raising his voice a little. “You have guests.”  
  
“Enter.”  
  
Kakashi tightened his grip on Naruto and followed Itachi into the lair of Uchiha Fugaku. It was surprisingly open. An entire wall had been pulled out in the far end, opening up into a courtyard filled with beautiful plants and a well-tended rock garden. Fugaku himself sat at a low table in the middle of the room, a cup of tea in front of him, the village paper in his hands and little Sasuke sitting beside him, looking supremely bored.  
  
“Uchiha-san! So good to see you, what a lovely home you have,” Kakashi said brightly and plopped down onto a cushion, settling Naruto down beside him, across from Sasuke. “This is my ward, Uzumaki Naruto. That must be your son, Sasuke, right?” Itachi gave him an unreadable look as he settled down next to his father’s side.  
  
“Hatake-san,” Fugaku said coolly, setting down the paper and looking very much like he wanted to give Kakashi the stink eye. “How...pleasant to see you.”  
  
“Likewise, likewise,” Kakashi said amiably and wondered how long this torture would last. “Naruto,” he nudged, “say hello to our wonderful host.”  
  
Naruto grinned. “Hiya Fugu--” Kakashi nudged him a little harder-- “Fugaku-san,” Naruto recovered, stumbling a little. “Nice ta meetcha! I’m Uzumaki Naruto, the greatest prankster in the whole widest world and I’m gonna be the Hokage someday! Yeah!”  
  
Fugaku looked like Naruto had thrown up all over his hakama. “He dreams big,” Kakashi grinned and ruffled Naruto’s hair, ignoring Naruto’s squawk of indignity. Sasuke, across the table, came alive a little and smiled, chubby cheeks scrunching up. It was, Kakashi thought with a little dismay, _adorable_.  
  
“What about you, Sasuke-kun?” Kakashi said, propping his elbow lazily on the table. “You’re going to the Academy next year, right?”  
  
Sasuke gave his father a quick sidelong glance before speaking up. “Yes,” he said, pride swelling up in his squeaky voice. “Father said I shall be going when I’m seven years old. I’m going to be a ninja and be better than my aniki some day!”  
  
“Hey hey, I bet my nii-san is better than your nii-san!” Naruto shouted, slamming his fists enthusiastically down on the table. Fugaku’s eye twitched.  
  
“What?” Sasuke looked like someone had punched him. The tiny six year old stood up, cheeks flushing, hands on his hips. “My nii-san is the best ninja in the _village_ , so there!”  
  
“Kakashi-nii-san is the best in the whole _country_ ,” Naruto shot back, standing up as well. “He’s the bestest ninja in the world world!”  
  
“No _mine_ is!”  
  
“No mine!”  
  
“No mine to the power of infinity--”  
  
Kakashi raised his voice the second he saw Fugaku’s temper reach boiling point. “Alright, boys,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his scruffy hair. “No need to argue about silly things like that.” Itachi gave him an amused look.  
  
“Silly?!” the boys shrieked in unison and then shot each other equally dirty looks.  
  
“Silly,” Itachi repeated in a firm voice. “Kakashi-senpai and I are ninja in service to the village. There’s no need for comparison.”  
  
The back of Kakashi’s head smugly pointed out that Kakashi was probably better than Itachi so there was no need to argue the point. “Right and you two will be much better than us in the future, I’m sure,” he said, tugging Naruto back down onto the floor.  
  
“Yeah, whatever, I still think you’re better,” Naruto said grumpily. Sasuke looked murderous and the tentative peace Kakashi and Itachi had established threatened to shatter.  
  
“How about we play a game?” Kakashi threw in desperately. “A cool ninja game that my own sensei taught me when I was your age?”  
  
“Game?” Naruto said, ear pricking up. “A _ninja_ game?”  
  
“Yes, but only if you and Sasuke play together.” With a discreet movement, he gestured at Itachi to bring some ink, a brush and rice paper _right now_. Without hesitation, Itachi slipped from the room silently, the two younger boys ignorant of his departure.  
  
“We will be having dinner soon.” Fugaku’s voice brooked no dissent.  
  
“Just a little game,” Kakashi said smoothly, plowing right through Fugaku. Kakashi had thirty years of experience ignoring three different Hokages; Fugaku didn’t quite measure up to the fury of Tsunade, the implacable nature of the Sandaime or the terrifying skill of the Yondaime. “My jounin sensei taught me this when I was six.” Of course, Minato-sensei had used the exercise to teach him to recognize and avoid exploding notes in preparation for the chuunin exam, but with a few modifications...  
  
Despite himself, Fugaki looked intrigued. “Your sensei?” The _Hokage_ went unsaid but Kakashi heard it all the same.  
  
“It helped me pass the chuunin exam,” Kakashi said truthfully. He’d exploited the basics of sealing techniques Minato-sensei had taught him and took out an an entire colony of giant centipedes. “Ah, thank you, Uchiha-kun,” Kakashi said as Itachi suddenly reappeared at his elbow, setting an ink stone, brush and rice paper on the table.  
  
“ _Please_ , Father,” Sasuke begged his father, eyes going wide and all _adorable_. How strange to see something so cute on his revenge-obsessed and bitter student’s face. How normal it looked. How _right_. Kakashi risked a quick glance at Itachi and filed away the soft and caring look on his face.  
  
“Alright,” Fugaku gave in but his eyes were stern. “But we finish as soon as your Mother says dinner is ready.”  
  
“Thank you, Father,” Sasuke beamed.  
  
“Yeah, thanks Fugaku-san!” Naruto cheered. “We’re gonna play a ninja game!”  
  
Kakashi ground up an ink stick Itachi had so thoughtfully provided and dipped a finger into the murky black water, testing the consistency. With a sharp nudge, he pushed chakra out of his finger and the fresh ink glowed an iridescent blue, sucking up the chakra he fed it greedily. After a few minutes, he let the flow trickle to a halt and dipped his brush into the chakra-enhanced ink.  
  
“Exploding tags?” Fugaku observed, dark eyes keen.  
  
“Something like that,” Kakashi responded absently and began sketching out six sealing tags onto a sheet of paper, primed to explode when the release kanji was scored. “Explodes with ink instead of chakra fire. My sensei came up with it to help me understand the principles of exploding notes and sealing techniques.” He finished inscribing the six tags with quick strokes of his brush and then palmed a kunai.  
  
With swift, easy movements, the sheet was cut into six sections and Kakashi set them aside to dry on the table and started on another one.  
  
“This is excellent sealing work,” Itachi noted quietly, his dark eyes flickering with red. “Have you tried modifying it for other uses?”  
  
“It’s basic sealing,” Kakashi said, worrying his bottom lip as he painted the release kanji with small, careful strokes. “Sensei came up with all these modifications for the tags. Flares, sensor tags, timed explosions. It’s how he managed to work out Hiraishin in the first place.”  
  
“The Flying Thunder God Technique?” Fugaku’s eyebrows rose as Kakasi nodded.  
  
“Done!” Kakashi cut the last sheet of paper and set a casual wave of chakra wind over them, drying the twelve exploding tags in an instant. “Alright, boys.” Kakashi grinned wolfishly. “Want to play a ninja game?”

* * *

 

“He’s not what I expected,” Fugaku said, sipping his tea contemplatively. His son twitched at his side, eyes easily tracking the punch Sasuke valiantly tried to land on Kakashi, only to hit Naruto’s shoulder. The ensuing screech of pain was loud enough to remind Fugaku of Sasuke’s _much_ younger days.  
  
“Which one?” Itachi asked.  
  
“Both.” He swirled the green tea around in his mouth, enjoying the clean bitter taste. “The boy is surprisingly normal for...” Fugaku paused, searching for the right word. “For what he is. If he and Sasuke befriend each other, it would be good for the clan.”  
  
“Why not for Sasuke’s benefit?” Itachi asked, his son’s normally soft voice hardening a little. Fugaku frowned.  
  
“What is good for the clan is undoubtedly good for Sasuke,” he said, his voice reproving. “You must not forget, Itachi, we all of us have a duty to maintain the clan’s power and status in the village, as it is right. Uzumaki is now Hatake’s ward, and _he’s_ recently claimed his father’s seat for his own. Things are changing, Itachi, and the Uchiha must keep up.” He watched Kakashi easily dance around the exploding notes Sasuke had cleverly hidden in the dirt, only for Naruto to come flying out of Mikoto’s prized rose bushes, scattering pink rose petals everywhere. Kakashi neatly dodged the boy but failed to account for Sasuke, who sprang up and went straight for Kakashi’s knees.  
  
“Long ago, Senju and Uchiha came together to form the basis of this village.”  
  
Fugaku put down his cup of tea. Why was his eldest son telling him the story every Konoha babe learned at their mother’s knee? “Yes,” he said slowly, humoring his son. “Madara-sama and Hashirama-sama brokered peace and founded the first and most powerful hidden village.”  
  
“But Madara betrayed the clan and the village.” Itachi’s voice was cold and dispassionate. “His ambitions proved too great and he broke the trust that made this village what it was.” His son blinked and his red eyes slowly shifted back to black as a giant plume of inky smoke enveloped the courtyard, covering Naruto and Sasuke, much to their combined dismay, judging by their yelps.  
  
“The Uchiha have _always_ been faithful to the Village,” Fugaku said, his voice growing very cold, colder than his son’s. “It is not our fault if the Hokage and the Council fail to trust us and lock us away in seclusion, using us as tools they can just throw away.”  
  
“If Sasuke were to disobey you and break a promise to you, Father, you would be disappointed, wouldn’t you? You would punish him and wonder if he deserved trust, but you would still love him, wouldn’t you Father?”  
  
Fugaku tried to trace the winding web of words that his son wove around him, but could find no straight path. “Sasuke is my _son_ ,” he said. “I would be disappointed, of course, but he is my family. My son.”  
  
“Konoha has feared the Uchiha, that is true,” Itachi said quietly, fingering the frayed hem of his old training shirt. “And it has unjustly forced us to live in a district far from others, making us live in isolation. Small wonder that we have grown distant from the village that we have helped found and guard. If Sasuke were to grow to hate you for your distance, wouldn’t you push him away even further? Wouldn’t you feel as if he weren’t deserving, not mature enough to deserve your trust again”  
  
Fugaku felt something in his chest tighten. “Sasuke is not the Uchiha and I am not the Council,” he said slowly, shakily finding his way in this new territory that Itachi slowly mapped out in front of him.  
  
“Of course not,” Itachi said calmly and Fugaku looked at his son, his eleven year old chuunin boy and his chest tightened even more. It seemed only yesterday when his little boy was crawling over to him, demanding to be held up in the air. “The Uchiha must protect the village,” Itachi continued. “But let us not forget that we are also a part of the village, Father.”  
  
Fugaku had a half a second warning before his younger son barreled towards him, every inch of exposed skin covered with streaks of dried ink. “Papa, Papa!” Sasuke beamed and jumped into his father’s arms, instantly ruining Fugaku’s hakama, hand-stitched by Mikoto with the finest silk and cotton. “Did you see? Did you see?” his son babbled, clinging to Fugaku’s neck with sweaty, grimy fingers. “We pushed Kakashi-nii-san to the ground and then he disappeared and it was Mama’s roses and then _we_ got all covered with the black stuff and Papa it was so much _fun_ ,” he finished with a deep, satisfied smile.  
  
“Your Mother would be very sad to see you so dirty,” Fugaku tried to say sternly, but somehow his voice would only come out soft and weak. He cleared his throat and instead inclined his head at Hatake, who was casually walking into the room from the courtyard, holding Naruto clear off the floor with a tight grip on the back of the boy’s shirt. To his credit, the silver haired man was entirely spot free.  
  
“Thank you,” he said gruffly and the other man just nodded back boredly.  
  
Itachi rose gracefully from the ground. “I’ll let Mother know that Sasuke and Naruto both need a new change of clothes and a quick wash.”  
  
Naruto groaned, squirming in the air. “‘Nother _bath_?! But I had one today already!”  
  
Kakashi shook his burden lightly. “Saa, you’re a mess right now. You’ll get all the cushions dirty when we sit down to eat, Naruto.”  
  
“If you’ll follow me?” Itachi asked deferentially and Kakashi, along with his blond haired burden, followed his eldest son out of the door.  
  
“You too, Sasuke,” Fugaku said and lifted Sasuke from his lap and set him down on the floor.  
  
“‘Kay, Papa,” Sasuke said obediently and scampered out the door, leaving small black foorprints in his wake. “Wait for me, idjit!” he heard his younger son yell and the Uzumaki boy yell something incomprehensible back.  
  
Fugaku closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, chakra flickering like ghostly flames in his mind’s eyes. He could feel Sasuke’s bright flicker and Kakashi’s and Itachi more tempered presences, tightly controlled and quiet. The Uzumaki boy’s was like a roaring flame, coated with a malevolent chakra that was undoubtedly the demon fox tainting it. Far to the right of him, he could feel Mikoto’s graceful flame, flickering in time with his own as she moved around the kitchen.   _We are also a part of the village, Father_. When had his son, his little eleven year old boy, grown so wise?

* * *

 

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” Mikoto said softly, stacking up the bowls and chopsticks with easy, deft movements.  
  
“It’ll keep me away from Naruto,” Kakashi said and used the reflective glass window above Mikoto’s head to check on the two boys gossiping happily over the latest comic books behind them on the floor. “He’s busy being a six year old. I’m too old to play with him right now.”  
  
“They grow up so fast,” Mikoto said wistfully and carried a stack of bowls into the kitchen, Kakashi following her, footsteps silent. “Seems like only yesterday Sasuke-chan was throwing his mashed potatoes at the wall.”  
  
“He must have had excellent aim.”  
  
Mikoto slid the bowls into the sink and turned the tap on, pulling on a pair of bright red gloves stamped with the Uchiha crust. She smiled up at Kakashi and the corners of her eyes crinkled. “It took Fugaku a week for his hair to stop smelling like peas,” she whispered conspiratorially, generously pouring soap all over her sponge.  
  
Kakashi had a graphic vision of Fugaku covered in slimy green goop and he was suddenly very grateful that he’d missed he’d missed that particular phase with Naruto. He picked up a dishtowel and methodically began drying the dishes that Mikoto washed. They slipped into a comfortable routine, Mikoto occasionally humming a song or chatting idly about her sons. Kakashi dried the last bowl and stacked it carefully in the cabinet, absently noting the expensive craftsmanship of the porcelain dishware.  
  
“Kakashi-san, forgive me if this sounds impertinent but...”  
  
Kakashi closed the cabinet door and tilted his head at her, dark eye flicking over her slim frame. He waited as she clasped her hands tightly, struggle painted clearly on her face.  
  
“Uzumaki Kushina was a very dear friend of mine,” Mikoto said slowly and Kakashi’s breath caught in his throat. “You were the Yondaime’s student, weren’t you, Kakashi-san?” He nodded tightly.  
  
Mikoto hesitated for a moment before plowing on, her eyes growing determined. “Then you must have had a passing acquaintance with her.”  
  
Kushina-san had been the one to convince Minato-sensei to let him stay in their guest room after the incident and the one to convince the Sandaime that Minato should be appointed his legal guardian. She’d made him kitsune ramen for his birthdays and always made sure to visit him in the hospital, clucking over the seals that the medics had drawn up and switching them out for her own. In a way, she’d been the mother he’d never had.  
  
“Yes,” Kakashi said tersely. “I knew her.”  
  
“Then-- Uzumaki-kun--”  
  
Kakashi’s right hand tightened into a fist. “Be careful with what you say, Uchiha-san,” he said, forcing his voice to be smooth and even.  
  
Mikoto let out a tense breath and her eyes were half-hopeful and half-fearful. “Are you saying--?”  
  
“I haven’t said anything,” he said evenly and forced his hand to relax, letting it fall uselessly at his side.  
  
Mikoto nodded and Kakashi remembered vaguely that Mikoto herself had been an accomplished kunoichi before she’d retired to marry Fugaku and bear children. It showed in her tightly trained chakra signature and her mannerisms. “That’s enough,” she said, her voice a gentle sigh. “Thank you very much, Kakashi-san.”  
  
Kakashi shrugged. “I haven’t said anything for you to thank me for.”  
  
Mikoto smiled and pulled off her rubber gloves with a snap. “Kushina-chan was very fond of you, you know.”  
  
Kakashi swallowed. “She was a good ninja,” he said. “A credit to her village.”  
  
Mikoto turned away to the end of the kitchen and Kakashi was silently grateful for the privacy she gave him to master himself. She opened the fridge door and pulled out a beautiful plate arrayed with flowering patterns of mochi in a hundred different colors. “I think the boys would enjoy this treat, don’t you think so Kakashi-san?”  
  
“Yes, Naruto would be thrilled,” Kakashi said and memorized the soft, maternal look Mikoto gave him, hiding a core of hard steel. What Kushina-san had been to him, perhaps Mikoto could be for Naruto... “Very thrilled,” he said. “Kushina-san enjoyed mochi very much.”  
  
“Then I’m sure Naruto-kun would enjoy them as well.” Mikoto gave him a knowing look and carried the tray out the door.

* * *

 

Kakashi heard the polite creak of wood before Itachi’s chakra unfurled next to him, whisper-soft. He relaxed the instinctive flood of chakra to his fingers and tucked a dagger back into his sandal.  
  
“Hatake-senpai,” Itachi said quietly. “I apologize for disturbing you.”  
  
Kakashi shrugged and continued to watch Naruto and Sasuke gambol excitedly like two cats in the courtyard beneath them, tearing through Mikoto’s prized roses without a thought.  
  
“Sasuke seems very pleased to have found a playmate his age,” the boy said lightly. “He doesn’t have a great many friends in the district and since Father refused to let him attend the civilian school...”  
  
“You seem fond of your brother,” Kakashi said, leaning back on his hands, hard roof tiles digging into his skin.  
  
“Of course. He’s my _brother_ ,” Itachi said solemnly as if that were explanation enough.  
  
Too many things didn’t make sense. Why had Itachi murdered his entire clan but left Sasuke alive? And why did the Massacre happen at the same time as when Kakashi had left ANBU and Root had grown in power? Why, why, _why?_ Over the years, Kakashi had cobbled together facts and lurked through the records, trying to figure out what had exactly occurred that night, that fateful night when the clan heir snapped and killed two hundred and forty six people.  
  
Coming back, _here_ , he’d gambled and made contact with Itachi, if only to keep the boy close and monitor his mental state and maybe use him against Danzou. But nothing made sense: Itachi, during his time as an Akatsuki operative, had never been known to kill a Konoha shinobi. He’d certainly incapacitated, harmed, maimed, threatened-- but never, ever killed. Not even when he’d the chance and Kakashi had been helpless at his feet. Not when Sasuke had been seven and vulnerable, not when Sasuke had been twelve and driven mad by vengeance. It was one reason why Kakashi had thrown in a spiel about protecting the village, hoping that there was more underneath the underneath. And it had _worked._  
  
There was more that he didn’t know about and Kakashi had a sinking suspicion that Fugaku and Danzou were at the heart of it. Clan _politics_. Kakashi’s lip curled. He’d certainly experienced more than his fair share of it, first with his father’s disgrace and later when Obito’s gift had enraged the Uchiha Clan. Even then, Sousuke-sama had been obsessed with power, with the Uchiha’s standing in the eyes of the village. Fugaku was much the same and no doubt he was infecting his own sons with the same nonsense, dragging his eldest son into the viper’s nest. Could it be that Fugaku had driven Itachi mad? But that hardly made any sense, given what he knew of the boy  
  
And how did it all tie into the _Massacre_?  
  
“It’s a beautiful home,” Kakashi offered, breaking the tense silence that had sprung up between them.  
  
“My grandfather had it built during the Third War in accordance with his views on the prominence of the Uchiha,” Itachi said.  
  
“I remember.” Kakashi shrugged. “It looks much better finished and with a family living in it.”  
  
Itachi cocked his head like a bird, shifting almost imperceptibly on his feet. “You’ve been here before.”  
  
“A long, long time ago.” Seven, eight years ago about in this body but for Kakashi’s mind it was an entire lifetime ago. Kakashi tapped his forehead protector. “Your Uncle’s gift had some repercussions.”  
  
“I’d heard some rumors but...” Itachi’s voice trailed off.  
  
“They objected to having a non-Uchiha bear the Sharingan,” Kakashi said laconically. “It didn’t help I was the son of the White Fang. A disgrace.”  
  
“I believe that your Father was a hero,” Itachi said and Kakashi snapped his head to look at the boy perched at his side, heart thudding. _Those who abandon their teammates are worse than scum. Your Father was a hero. The White Fang was a hero._ _Obito._  
  
“What?” Kakashi croaked.  
  
Dark eyes reflected the light of the stars above them. “The White Fang saved the lives of six shinobi on that mission. It was wrong of the village to condemn him for that.” Itachi shrugged.  
  
How strange that Uchiha Obito, black sheep and perpetual failure, would be born again as the Clan heir and the strongest Uchiha born of the clan for generation. How fitting. But the _massacre...._  
  
Kakashi bit down the urge to growl. He had too few pieces and not enough information to solve the damned puzzle hovering in front of him and he was running out of time. “The village has condemned many,” Kakashi said carefully, picking his words with caution. “My father, Naruto, the Uchiha.”  
  
Itachi twitched. “Yes,” the boy allowed. “Fear has been known to misguide.”  
  
“But we must still protect the village, because it holds the most important thing in the world.”  
  
Itachi looked up at the older man, his eyes curious.  
  
“The future,” Kakashi said quietly and jerked his head at the two laughing boys, wrestling on the ground.  
  
There was another long silence before Itachi spoke up, his normally calm voice now hesitant. “Kakashi-senpai...I believe...that there are some in this clan that are making...less than wise choices.”  
  
Kakashi’s ears pricked and he scratched his nose casually. “Oh?”  
  
“There have been...” Itachi idly picked at a clay tile, scratching something illegible with his fingernail. “Angry conversations. About the village’s mistrust. The decline of Uchiha power.”  
  
Kakashi puzzled over Itachi’s words, face unreadable. “You don’t mean--?”  
  
“Who knows what a frightened animal, backed into a corner, might do when it feels that it is going to be devoured?”  
  
Kakashi’s breath caught in his chest. A fucking _coup._ The Uchiha were planning a fucking _coup_. Of all the theories he’d come up with over the years, he’d never even bothered to think about the coup, convinced of the loyalty of a founding clan. A _coup._ There had been rumors of the Uchiha being discontent, powerful but furious at being sidelined in favor of others, like the Hyuuga. But to overthrow the Council and potentially assassinate the Hokage-- Kakashi felt like someone had punched clean through his chest.  
  
No wonder Itachi had killed them all, Kakashi realized numbly. The other option was Konoha being split apart by internal conflict; more than easy pickings for the rest of the hidden villages. And Danzou-- the massacre fair reeked of him. Somehow, he must have manipulated the boy next to him into going against his own family while in ANBU. Eliminate threats at any and all costs. It made so much _sense_. No wonder Itachi had never killed a Konoha nin-- no wonder he kept his brother alive. He loved him too much to kill him. No doubt Danzou used that love to kill Itachi's family.   
  
He looked down below him, watching Sasuke leap into a flying tackle and flatten Naruto onto the ground, the two of them shrieking bloody murder at each other. His pack _ruined_ by the fucking ambitions of Danzou and Fugaku-- just collateral damage. Just two little boys, ruined by pride and ambition. Kakashi felt sick.  
  
A bracing hand gently touched his shoulder and Kakashi blinked once, twice. “Itachi,” he said quietly. “You must listen to me. We need to prevent this-- this, whatever this is, from happening.”  
  
The grip on his shoulder tightened. “I have tried my best, Kakashi-senpai, but--”  
  
Kakashi shook his head violently. “There is much, much more going on then you think,” he said in a low voice. “But if the Council catches even so much as a _word_ of this.” Itachi stilled and the two of them looked at the children beneath them.  
  
“They wouldn’t dare--”  
  
“What do you think happened to all the clans with kekkei genkai in Kiri?” Kakashi’s mouth twisted underneath his mask. “One man with the ability to walk through shadows tries to assassinate the Mizukage. The next day, an edict goes out ordering the death of all with special abilities.”  
  
“The Uchiha have played with fire so long that we have forgotten how it dangerous it is.” Itachi let go of Kakashi’s shoulder and retreated into the shadows, face wan and pale. “Kakashi-senpai, there are a few of us in the clan who-- who want to protect the village and our families.”  
  
“We are running out of time.” Kakashi’s lips thinned. “The Council is restless as it is. I don’t think I have to tell you about how Danzou is feeling.”  
  
“I will alert them right away,” Itachi said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s the clan elders who will prove to be the most trouble.”  
  
“Clan-village relations must be strengthened,” Kakashi said absently. “I’ll speak on behalf of the clan during council meetings and privately with the Hokage, but I can only do so much. The clan needs to make this happen.” _Fugaku needs to make this happen._ Kakashi scowled and dug his fingers into the terra cotta roof, unconsciously channeling chakra.  
  
“You speak as if you know what will happen.” Kakashi met Itachi’s intense stare with a droopy eye, projecting as much disinterest as he could possibly muster.  
  
“Oh, not really,” Kakashi said vaguely. “But I know the Council. I know shinobi villages. I know _war_.”  
  
Itachi sucked in a quiet breath. “You don’t mean Sasuke...?”  
  
“You and your friends have your work cut out for yourselves,” Kakashi said and his fingers slid through hardened clay like a hot knife in butter. “Or the clan’s precious future might never happen.”

* * *

 

“It was good of you to come,” Fugaku said gruffly and bowed as a man befitting his station: barely.  
  
“Oh, well, it was a wonderful meal.” The Hatake boy smiled and bobbed like an idiot but Fugaku saw the clever mind hiding behind the unseemly mask.  
  
“Please, do come again,” Mikoto said gently and she pressed her calloused, small hand against his, gripping tight. Fugaku swallowed and something inside of him softened at his wife’s touch. “Dinner again would be no bad thing,” he said slowly and his wife’s chakra flickered brightly.  
  
“Come over next time and I’ll show you the cool shuriken trick aniki showed me,” Sasuke boasted but Fugaku was too proud of his son to scold him for being so rude to the guests.  
  
“I’ll bring Ryou-chan wif me,” Naruto bounced on his feet, barely held in place by the Hatake’s grip on his shoulder. “He knows all these cool tricks and mebbe we can teach him to do shuriken tricks too!”  
  
Sasuke looked intrigued and a sly look passed over his face. “Dog tricks?” Fugaku had always forbidden pets on the grounds of mess but Sasuke had persisted in bringing home stray animals, throwing formidable temper tantrums when Fugaku had carried the latest kitten or bird out to the woods. He had a distinctly unwell feeling when looking at Sasuke’s face.  
  
“Yeah, dog tricks,” the blond boy said happily. “‘S me and Nii-san’s friend, Ryou-chan’s the best.”  
  
Sasuke, the demonic child that he was, turned large, bright eyes at him. “Papa,” he said in a forlorn sort of voice. “May Ryou-chan and Naruto come and visit soon?”  
  
“Well.” Fugaku swallowed as Sasuke’s eyes filled with more tears. “I’ll think about it,” he muttered and gripped his wife’s hand for support.  
  
Sasuke cheered and the two children enacted some sort of victory dance ritual, jumping up and down and throwing their arms in the air, shouting like little hooligans. “Alright, that’s enough,” Fugaku said coldly. “The guests must be on their way now.”  
  
Sasuke immediately fell back into line but his lines of his face were satisfied. Fugaku thought despairingly that in some ways his children were even worse than the power plays of the council.  
  
“Bow,” he heard the Hatake boy whisper to his charge and the Uzumaki boy bowed unsteadily, bright blond hair flopping as he did. Strange, how much the child reminded him of another Uzumaki, long gone and dead...  
  
“It was very good to see you, Uzumaki-kun, Kakashi-senpai.” His eldest son bowed back gracefully, perhaps a touch more deeper than he should have as a Clan heir but Fugaku could clearly see the respect his son had for the Hatake. Interesting. Strengthening ties between the Uchiha and the Hatake could prove useful during Council meetings.  
  
“We’ll see you soon,” Hatake bobbed and crouched down, letting Naruto eagerly clamber up onto his back, thin arms curled around the masked man’s neck. “The night is late and I don’t want to impose on your hospitality any longer.”  
  
When the silver and gold haired duo disappeared with just a flicker of chakra, Fugaku breathed out a sigh of relief.  
  
“They were very lovely,” Mikoto smiled and squeezed his hands, her dark eyes affectionate.  
  
“Naruto’s not _lovely_ ,” Sasuke said disparagingly, lower lip sticking out in a pout. “He’s a _boy_.”  
  
“Sasuke,” Fugaku said warningly.  
  
Mikoto patted her son’s head gently. “If he’s not lovely, then what is he?”  
  
To the family’s surprise it was Itachi who answered Mikoto’s question. “A good friend,” he said quietly. Sasuke beamed up at his eldest son. “‘xactly,” he said.

* * *

 

A chakra string twanged softly outside his window and Kakashi woke without a sound, kunai already in his hand (he always slept with blades under his pillow) and chakra burning bright in his left hand. There was something hovering outside his window, tripping his seals, and Kakashi reached out irritatedly with his chakra, probing the guarded presence. He thought he’d kept the damned couriers away with his anti-chakra seals outside his window--  
  
When Kakashi recognized the presence, he let his chakra die away but kept the blade tight in his hand. With a rough hand, he jerked the shade up to reveal Tenzou’s wide eyes, face looking even paler than usual. Tenzou tapped on the glass with trembling hands _outside open now emergency now now now_ and Kakashi jerked the window open with a little more force than he had to.  
  
He slithered out, dressed in nothing but pajama bottoms and armed with a single kunai. “What is it?” he snarled, Tenzou’s tension making his hackles rise. “Did someone die?”  
  
“No.” Tenzou swallowed and his face whitened. Kakashi didn’t know whether it was because of the news he was bringing or because of Kakashi’s killer intent. Probably both. Kakashi found that he couldn’t exactly care at the moment. Naruto was sleeping just ten feet away and Sandaime-sama had _sworn_ that he would give him two months of leave to look after him. He was still exhausted from his visit to the Uchiha district and the sour smell of Tenzou’s fear didn’t make him feel any better.  
  
“Then what is it?”  
  
“Delta Squad’s being sent out on a suicide mission.”  
  
Kakashi gripped the window frame tightly, knuckles whitening. His kunai trembled in his other hand. “What?” he asked dully.  
  
“Captain-- Genma just received-- I didn’t know who else to ask but--”  
  
Kakashi closed his eye. “Danzou,” he said. It wasn’t a question.  
  
Tenzou nodded miserably, dark circles under his eyes highlighted by the dim light of the moon. “Straight from the mouth of the Councilman.”  
  
“Fuck.”


	4. Chapter 4

Kakashi closed the window after Tenzou slipped in and locked the bar. “Stand back,” he said and tucked his kunai into his mouth; he formed a series of seals, hot chakra flooding through his coils, and slammed his palms down on the wall. For a long moment his dark room was lit up with the dim light of his security seals activating, exuding so much chakra that it made Kakashi’s eye water just looking at it.  
  
“Senpai, those are at _least_ S-Rank seals,” Tenzou said and his voice was tinged with an awe that his twelve year old self would have reveled in. Thirty year old Kakashi just felt tired.  
  
“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said and fell into the familiar stance, hands clasped behind his back, kunai in hand. Tenzou immediately straightened and he automatically fell into a ready position.  
  
“At about 2000 hours, Councilman Shimura Danzou summoned Captain Shiranui to attend to him. Captain received an S-RANK mission from Councilman Danzou, detailing the elimination of target GARI of Iwagakure, of the Bakuton kekkei genkai and the Explosion Corps. Failure is not acceptable and Konoha must not be implicated in this mission. Delta Squad is to leave the village in three days time and expected back in the village in two months.”  
  
Kakashi didn’t get angry very often. In fact, he didn’t get very _anything_ often. Extreme emotion was better suited for Gai or Naruto; Kakashi just preferred a book, some tea and a quiet afternoon sitting with one of his dogs. But, Kakashi realized dimly, as Tenzou stared back at him uncertainly, right now he was fucking _furious_.  
  
“All ANBU squads are given three weeks of leave in order to integrate new members into their team,” Kakashi said in a very quiet voice. Tenzou swallowed hard.  
  
“C-Councilman Danzou said that this mission could be trusted to no other,” Tenzou said, his voice cracking a little at the end. “And that Uchiha Itachi had proved himself particularly well before.”  
  
“Oh?” Kakashi said. “Is that so?”  
  
“Y-Yes.”  
  
“And is Councilman Danzou also aware that Konoha has an extremely tentative peace right now with Iwa and that Gari is currently listed in all five of the major Bingo books, noted to be worth at least seventy five million ryou dead and a hundred and fifty ryou alive? And that he has managed to survive every assassination attempt for the past fifteen years?”  
  
“Councilman Danzou-- he said that Captain Shiranui was not to question his orders,” Tenzou said faintly.  
  
“Did he?” Kakashi asked, gripping the handle of his kunai tight behind his back.  
  
“Senpai, y-you’re bleeding.”  
  
Kakashi unclasped his hands behind his back and realized that he was holding the kunai by the blade instead of the handle. The edge had cut deeply into the palm of his left hand. “So I see,” he said slowly and calmly placed the blood kunai onto his desk.  
  
“I didn’t know who else to go to--” Tenzou swallowed again and his sunken brown eyes looked nervously at Kakashi’s bloody hands. “Captain Shiranui was in the middle of updating his will when I came,” he finished quietly.  
  
Kakashi automatically pulled out his desk chair and sat down, clenching his fist tight to stop the bleeding. Danzou, Councilman Shimura fucking Danzou was sending his team on a mission that was almost a hundred percent guarantee to fail. Against motherfucking _Gari_. Kakashi growled deeply. Gari of Iwa, who’d single-handedly managed to destroy a battalion of Konoha soldiers; Gari of Iwa, with flee on sight orders straight from the Hokage. _Gari_.  
  
And Danzou had ordered this to clean ANBU of Kakashi’s friends, his allies and to make way for the ROOT operatives he was no doubt training. Danzou was, essentially, eliminating his teammates because they were associated with him.  
  
He was going to _kill_ Danzou.  
  
Tenzou’s pale face hovered into view. “You-- you can’t kill Danzou, senpai.”  
  
Kakashi blinked. Had he said that aloud?  
  
“You did,” Tenzou said, looking a touch apologetic. “But if you kill him, you’ll be marked a criminal and whatever Danzou’s planning will probably still go on.”  
  
Kakashi closed his eye and felt Obito’s eye start pounding, a dull bell constantly ringing in his head. “Alright,” he said quietly. “This is what we’ll do. Go to Genma immediately and fill out form 36B-AZ. Ask him to request me and give the paperwork to Morita along with a box of candied ginger. She’ll have it filed within the hour. Then tell Genma to brief the team and have them meet me on the roof of The Rusty Kunai in about three hours. Everyone but Itachi. I’ll take care of him.”  
  
“Understood.” Tenzou saluted and then headed for the window, waiting as Kakashi undid the seals with a flash of hand seals.  
  
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, senpai,” he said, dark brows drawn together.  
  
“No,” Kakashi said gently as he opened up the window, the evening breeze brushing his silver locks of hair. “I’m sorry for involving you. Now, go. You have three hours to get everyone and everything together. Pack for a long term infiltration mission, sealing scrolls, tags, disguise kits, everything.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Tenzou said obediently and flew out the window, disappearing into the darkness.  
  
Kakashi shut the window again and went to work.

* * *

 

  
Fugaku swept out of the house, dressed in an elegant robe and kunai bristling in his hands, Sharingan swirling dangerously in his eyes.  
  
“What’s the emergency?” he barked at the sentry kneeling on the ground-- Mariko’s youngest son, Shinji. Clever boy but too excitable for his own good.  
  
“S-sir,” the boy stammered and held up a chakra-sealed scroll with trembling hands, not quite daring to make eye contact with the formidable Clan Head. “A summons dropped this off at the gate and said it was for your eyes only, Fugaku-sama.”  
  
“From the Tower?” Fugaku asked, alarm faintly tinging his voice and instinctively pushed more chakra into his eyes.  
  
“N-no, Fugaku-sama,” Shinji said, his voice cracking. “F-from Hatake Kakashi, sir.”  
  
Fugaku hurried down the steps and re-holstered the kunai, heavy silk robes rustling in the air. What could the damned boy want at this hour and so soon after the dinner? Fugaku forced himself to slow down at the last moment and reach out for the scroll in a dignified manner. His Sharingan detected streams of chakra coiled tightly around the scroll, sealed only to open to a specific chakra signature. Very, very clever work.  
  
He nicked his thumb with a blade and swiped it across the seal, the dark kanji marks sucking up his blood hungrily. With a faint puff of smoke the scroll unrolled and Fugaku almost raised his hand to dismiss the boy when he read the missive inside.  
  
By the Shodai, the boy was asking for the impossible--!  
  
“Shinji,” Fugaku said slowly and his Sharingan spun wildly in the moonlight. “Did the summons mention anything else?”  
  
“A-ah, maybe that Hatake-san would be by. Soon? To confirm the response?” Shinji squeaked.  
  
“Is that a question or an answer, boy?” Fugaku asked wearily and he waved a hand dismissively when the boy opened his mouth again. “No, don’t answer that. Go back to your duty, you did well. Your Mother would be pleased with your efforts.”  
  
Shinji bowed deeply, forehead almost touching the gravel path. “Your words honor me, Fugaku-sama,” he said and for once it seemed like he was too awed to stammer. A faint twist of chakra later and the boy had melted back into the shadows, leaving Fugaku alone with a bloody thumb and a deep desire to throttle the Hatake boy.  
  
“Mikoto,” Fugaku said, raising his voice slightly. His beloved wife appeared half a moment later at his side, hair only slightly windswept by the body flicker.  
  
“Yes, beloved husband?” she said gently and rested a slender hand on his arm.  
  
“Hatake requests that we look after the Uzumaki demon boy while he is away on an extended mission,” Fugaku said, looking deeply aggrieved, the lines of his craggy face deepening. “Months, it may seem.” No, throttling was too good for the boy. Fugaku would first trap him with a genjutsu they normally used to question criminals at the station and--  
  
“Oh, Sasuke will be so pleased. I’ll have to prepare an extra room and of course, Naruto-chan would have to need an extra set of bedding and a place at the table...”  
  
“What?” Fugaku stared at his demure wife, all thoughts of torturing the Hatake boy long gone.  
  
“Naruto-chan is such a sweet boy, of course we must help a fellow Clan Head in need and look after him,” Mikoto said, her dark eyes wide and sweet. “It’s very brave of Hatake-san to trust us with his heir, isn’t it dear?”  
  
“But he’s--” Fugaku fumbled for the right words. “The _boy_.”  
  
“A very strong one,” Mikoto nodded and her grip on Fugaku’s arm tightened. “To hold back a force so devastating to the village. You’ll allow this, won’t you, dear?”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” Fugaku said gruffly and tugged his wife back towards the house, unconsciously matching his steps with hers. “Outrageous of the boy to ask us such a thing on such short notice.”  
  
“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Mikoto said agreeably and pressed a soft kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Now, I’ll have to ask Itachi-kun to help me air out the bedding and we must have the two of them stay for breakfast at least. Yesterday, Kenji-san had a whole fresh catch of mackerel straight from the coast and he promised to set aside a few for me. It would go splendidly with the miso and rice and there’s the natto I was planning on...”

* * *

 

Even Copy Ninja Hatake Kakashi, Master of a Thousand Jutsu, ex ANBU Hound, protege of the Yondaime Hokage and son of the late White Fang, was no match for the determined will of a housewife and a tray of tea. Before he knew it, Kakashi was ushered into a room with Itachi and Fugaku and a cup of steaming green tea placed in front of him on the table along with a plate of freshly cut fruit.  
  
Fugaku, it seemed, was long resigned to the domestic machinations of his wife and was already settled into his cushion and sipping at his tea, Itachi sitting at his right hand like a loyal retainer.  
  
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Mikoto said softly and pressed a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder, but not before giving his bandaged hand a concerned look. She swept out of the room and the sliding door closed with a dull finality before her.  
  
“An unusual request,” Fugaku said in that damned smug voice of his and Kakashi fought to keep a rein in on his temper. _Calm_ , he repeated to himself and tried not to think about how close Danzou was, how so very easy it would be to slit his throat and leave him hanging on the walls of the village, a warning to all those who _dared_ to go against his pack. Instead, Kakashi drank his tea.  
  
“Unusual circumstances demand unusual measures,” Kakashi said and wondered if a Chidori through Danzou’s chest was too quick, too merciful. “My presence has been requested for a mission and I thought it best to leave Naruto in the care of people I trust.”  
  
Fugaku raised an eyebrow. “I would hardly call our brief acquaintance a particularly close one.”  
  
Kakashi bared his teeth under his mask and his tenuous control on his killing intent grew thin. “Better with the enemy I know than the enemy that I don’t.” He forced himself to loosen his grip on the cup.  
  
“If I may ask,” Itachi said, speaking for the first time since the three had entered the room. “But it seems that your attire is different this morning, Kakashi-senpai.”  
  
Kakashi plucked at the hem of his black cloak. “I’ve volunteered for a classified mission,” he said and his mouth twisted.  
  
Fugaku’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t mean--?”  
  
“It seems _he_ thinks that he can do whatever he likes with the Corps.” Kakashi set the cup of tea back down on the table and wondered what Danzou’s fear would smell like. “In my short absence, he seems to have wrought a great many unfavorable changes. Including the planned elimination of my old team.” Sour and sickly, probably, twisted by hate and darkness.  
  
“You have made a powerful enemy,” Fugaku observed, his dark eyes unreadable.  
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Kakashi said. “The Councilman has made some very bad choices. He’s made an enemy of _me_.” The air in the room suddenly grew a good ten degrees colder and Kakashi wondered, dimly, that Danzou’s death would probably be the first he would enjoy. He knew some genjutsu not as powerful or as dangerous as the Tsukiyomi, but just as devastating with careful application. Danzou was the root, the cause of the death of his pack. Danzou had ripped Sasuke’s psyche apart, had crushed Sakura, had nearly killed Naruto and driven Five Shinobi Countries to _war_ because of his ambitions.  
  
Death, Kakashi realized, was too good for the sack of shit.  
  
“Kakashi-senpai,” Itachi said faintly and Kakashi snapped out of his thoughts, blinking rapidly. Odd, Fugaku and Itachi looked paler and he could smell the heavy stink of fear in the air--  
  
Ah. Kakashi tamped down on the intent that he was exuding, slowly coiling the power into a tight knot inside of himself. “I would be in your debt, Uchiha-dono,” Kakashi said calmly, “if you would be so kind as to look after Naruto in my absence.”  
  
“I--” Fugaku paused and swallowed. “It would be my honor, Hatake-dono. Your trust in my clan is one that I do not hold lightly.”  
  
Kakashi’s shoulders relaxed a little and he bowed his head. “Your generosity knows no bounds,” he said and breathed a very quiet sigh of relief as the pieces of his hastily put-together plan slowly fell into place. Reaching into the sleeve of his voluminous ANBU cloak, he pulled out a packet of seals and placed them on the table.  
  
“Security seals,” he explained at Fugaku’s questioning look. “To keep you and your household safe.” _Mostly Naruto and Sasuke_ , he added silently. It had taken a good hour to create powerful seals that could easily be integrated into the Uchiha seals already in place. If used properly, no harm would come to the Uchiha household. “Directions are enclosed.”  
  
Fugaku looked faintly impressed and he took the packet with a dignified gesture, setting them aside to be properly looked at later. It would rude to open gifts in front of the giver, no matter how much Kakashi could smell Fugaku wanted to.  
  
“I don’t mean to be rude but time is running short,” Kakashi said and rose swiftly from the ground, pulling his dark hood up to cover his shock of silvery hair. “You have my deepest gratitudes, Uchiha-dono.” _Meet me outside_ , he signed at Itachi while discreetly adjusting his hood.  
  
Fugaku and his son also stood up, he and Itachi a smoothly oiled machine rising as one and Fugaku inclined his head. “Go swiftly so you may return successfully.”  
  
A deeply cynical voice in the back of his head wondered if this would be the last time he would see the Uchiha Clan Head.

* * *

 

“Mission?” Naruto asked and for the first time, the enormity of Kakashi’s absence seemed to hit him. “You’re going to be _gone_?!” Naruto swallowed and his dark blue eyes, Minato-sensei’s eyes, started filling up with tears.  
  
Kakashi hesitantly reached out and rested his bandaged hand on Naruto’s head. “Only for a very little while. I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
“Why do you have to _go?_ ” Naruto whimpered and his tiny hands were buried deep in Ryou’s fur. The dog whined pathetically and licked at Naruto’s shirt, trying to comfort him.  
  
“I’ve sworn to do my duty to the Hokage,” Kakashi said. “You remember him, right?”  
  
“Old jiji?” Naruto wrinkled his nose and scrubbed furiously at his eyes. “He’s a dumb old man and he doesn’t even like ramen, why do you have to do stuff for him?”  
  
“He protects and leads Konoha,” Kakashi said and it was suddenly much harder to speak; strangely, his throat seemed to be tightening up, like he was coming down with a cold. “It’s your dream to be the Hokage, right Naruto-kun?”  
  
“I don’t want you to go,” Naruto said in a very, very quiet voice.  
  
Kakashi closed his eye. He could still see Father’s broad back burned into his mind, his hair pale against the dark green of the flak vest, tantou strapped to his hip, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. “I’m sorry, Naruto,” Kakashi said and pulled away, catching Itachi walking towards them from the corner of his eye. “I have to go. Be good and listen to Fugaku-san and Mikoto-san, alright?”  
  
He turned away and forced himself to leave the small boy behind him, forced his legs to move, up and down and away from his most precious person in the world. Two quick heartbeats later and Itachi smoothly joined his side, the younger boy barely reaching his elbow.  
  
“Good luck with your mission, senpai,” Itachi said.  
  
“What, no complaints about leaving you back home?” Kakashi tried to joke, but it fell flat-- all he could think about was Naruto and Ryou behind him, his two tiny pack members all alone without him.  
  
“I could see the logic of your decisions.” Itachi tilted his head. “With Delta Squad away, the Councilman has more control over the Corps. My presence will at least deter him from both acting against the Commander’s interests and against Uzumaki-kun. There are also the Clan politics to think of. We are few but growing and my absence will surely result in unrestrained actions by the elders.”  
  
“I always did think you were a better genius than me,” Kakashi said, tugging at the edge of his hood. “Keep them safe for me, will you?”  
  
“Of course,” Itachi said. “If I may be so forward, I would like to request Delta Squad safe return to the village in two months’ time. I have grown fond of their presence.”  
  
For the first time since Tenzou had dropped by unexpectedly by his window, Kakashi smiled. “How was dango with Tenzou?”  
  
The corner of Itachi’s mouth tugged up. “Enjoyable and informative,” he said. “I had never realized that so many new varieties of dango existed.”  
  
“I can’t make any promises,” Kakashi said in a quiet voice. “But I’ll try my best.”  
  
“That’s all anyone ever asks for,” Itachi said and saluted, fist over his heart. “Good hunting, Captain.”  
  
Kakashi tapped his forehead protector lightly, returning Itachi’s salute in his own way. “Good hunting, Itachi.”

* * *

 

  
When Tenzou had knocked on his door, white-faced and looking like he’d done a couple of rounds with Kumo-nin, Genma had been in the middle of revising his will and packing up his possessions, so that it would be easier for the administrators to distribute them to his family. Death and Genma were more than passing acquaintances; he reckoned they were more like neighbors now, with Death swooping past him nearly every day, a reminder of how very little time he had left in the world. Some days, he wondered how he’d even made it out of the Third Shinobi War alive; others, he wondered how made it this far in ANBU alive and with most of his mental faculties intact. But mostly he thanked the gods, his luck and just went on with his job. Today, it seemed like his luck had finally run out. Death was coming for him, whether he wanted it to or not.  
  
“Come in,” he said, trusting Tenzou to dodge the various traps and tripwires he’d set up near the entrance. By his reasoning, if you weren’t good enough to recognize and avoid them, Genam really had no interest in knowing you.  
  
“Captain--”  
  
Genma looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You look like shit,” he said drily.  
  
“I--I met with Kakashi-senpai,” Tenzou said, hands clenched tight.  
  
Hell, classified ANBU mission or not, Kakashi was probably near about Tenzou’s only family in the world, as pathetic as that sounded. And it was the _Captain_ Tenzou was talking to; the man probably forgot more secrets than most people knew in their entire lifetimes.  
  
“Did you give him your goodbyes?” Genma asked kindly and went back to sorting through his photo albums, stacking them up in a box clearly labeled ℅ SHIRANUI FAMILY. His sister would probably need some photos of him to add to the family shrine she had in her house.  
  
“Not exactly,” Tenzou said slowly and there was something in the younger man’s voice that made Genma look up, senbon twitching in his mouth.  
  
“What do you mean, _not exactly_ ,” Genma said.  
  
“Kakashi-senpai said that you should file form 36B-AZ requesting him and file it with Morita-san right away along with a box of candied ginger. The team is supposed to meet up on the roof of The Rusty Kunai in about two and a half hours, packed for a long term infiltration mission. He would take care of Itachi separately.” Tenzou took a deep breath and then swallowed.  
  
Genma blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say form 36B-AZ?”  
  
“Yes,” Tenzou said, sounding a touch defensive.  
  
The sneaky _bastard_. Genma whistled, long and low and for the first time since he’d been called before Councilman Danzou’s feet, he felt a tiny twinge of hope. “He’s having me request him as a non-ANBU special associate specifically for the mission. And he has the clearance rank for it which means--”  
  
“Captain’s going to be back on the team?” Tenzou asked, his voice high and hopeful. Genma couldn’t fault the kid for calling Captain, _Captain_. Hell, even Genma still thought of Kakashi as Captain; Genma was just filling in temporarily for the man while he was on vacation babysitting the demon brat, probably on the orders of the Hokage.  
  
There was a reason why space on Delta Squad was so coveted, why they were ranked as the best team in the whole of the Corps. They had the _best_ mission completion rate with the lowest amount of casualties. Entrance into Delta Squad meant that Captain Hatake, possibly the greatest and strongest ninja in the whole of ANBU, second only to the Commander, thought you had the chops to make it. Entrance into Delta Squad meant you would be going through the toughest, hardest, worst missions and you would come back to the village alive, because Captain Hatake fucking Kakashi never left a man behind.  
  
And Captain coming back meant that Delta Squad might actually survive this crazy shitshow of a mission. Genma waved cheerfully goodbye at his neighbor Death and shoved his box of crap off the desk and propped his feet up instead.  
  
“Let’s get that paperwork filed,” Genma smiled. “Run out and get me a box of the candy that Morita likes, would you? And let Raidou know that he doesn’t have to pack his shit up, because the odds of us coming back alive just went up.”  
  
Tenzou smiled, a tiny curve of his lips, and he saluted. “Yes Captain Genma, sir.”  
  
“What’re you sticking around for?” Genma demanded. “Get out, we’ve got a mission to prepare for in less than two hours, get your ass moving, rookie.”  
  
Tenzou rolled his eyes and made for the window, slipping out with the lithe grace of a cat. Genma wasn’t sure whether or not he was imagining the parting shot _Not a damn rookie anymore_ but he pretended not to hear it. Good to hear that the rookie was finally growing a backbone of his own.

* * *

 

“This,” Kakashi said, holding up a sheaf of papers Genma had handed to him. “Is _shit_.” A finger sparked with a tiny hot flame of chakra and the stack of papers instantly burst into ashes.  
  
“Shodai’s balls,” Raidou said, looking deeply impressed. “Intel’s gonna have a hissy fit when they see what you did to their information, Captain.”  
  
“Assume the worst,” Kakashi said dispassionately, wiping his hands clean of the dust. “Danzou gave out the assassination to eliminate my team, he’s not going to make it easy for us to complete the mission.”  
  
“How’re you so sure that Danzou’s out to get us?” Genma argued, rocking on his heels, hands shoved into his cloak pockets. “We’re the best team in the Corps, maybe he thought we could handle it, sir.”  
  
“Danzou personally summons you to assassinate one of the most notorious ninja in the Five Shinobi Nations, and user of a kekkei genkai that’s had particularly devastating effects during the Third Shinobi War against Konoha. If any word of this mission leaks out, the treaty between Iwa and Konoha would be broken and all blame of the next war would be pinned on us. If we fail, which is very likely, and we manage to keep Konoha’s involvement quiet which is unlikely, Danzou can easily pretend that we were sent out on a different, less politically dangerous assignment. After all,” Kakashi said, smiling thinly. “Most ANBU missions leave no paper trace. He can make up whatever he wants, _he’s_ a Councilman and we’re just pawns in a game.”  
  
“But if we come back,” Tenzou said slowly, comprehension dawning on his face.  
  
“Danzou’s caught between a rock and an angry Konoha nin,” Raidou said, his dark eyes looking very amused. “We show up with Gari’s head, keep Konoha quiet in this whole mess, maybe implicate some other fuckin’ village and everyone congratulates us. Meanwhile, Hokage-sama’s mighty pissed at Danzou for fucking around with his private force and giving us such a stupid ass mission.”  
  
“Maybe even take a good hard long look at ANBU and stop whatever Danzou’s doing to the Corps,” Genma said in a surprisingly quiet voice.  
  
“You know?” Kakashi asked, his voice neutral.  
  
“They don’t even act human,” Raidou said, Tenzou nodding along with him. “How could we not know? And when you left.” Raidou shrugged.  
  
“There were more of them,” Kakashi continued grimly. “All the more reason we need to successfully complete the mission.”  
  
“Yeah, you know, no big deal,” Genma drawled, fiddling the senbon in his mouth. “Infiltrate Iwa, kill an insanely talented shinobi without revealing that we’re involved, make it out of the village alive,  take his body back for T &I and report to the Hokage about what a fucker Danzou was for assigning this shit mission.”  
  
“All in a day’s work for Delta Squad,” Kakashi said and no one on the roof missed the subtle undercurrent of tension in his voice.  
  
“Hey, hey.” Raidou raised his hands in the air. “We’ll get through this alright, Captain. Just think about how much fun you’ll have thinking about fucking with Danzou for the next two months.”  
  
“I’ve already started,” Kakashi said quietly. “He won’t dare to mess with my team again.”

* * *

 

Sasuke had woken up and it had instantly become the best day in the world ever because Naruto was there, eating breakfast with Aniki and Mama and Father and there was grilled mackerel which was his favoritest in the whole world.  
  
Of course, he had to say good morning in his indoor voice and then eat breakfast quietly but it was so _hard_ because Naruto was sitting right next to him and Aniki was home and Sasuke wanted to play more games and show him the gardens near the house where Aniki had built him a cool treehouse in the old maple tree.  
  
“ThankyouforthemealMama,” Sasuke blurted out the minute he finished his bowl of rice and dragged Naruto away from the table towards his room.  
  
“Sasuke!”  
  
Sasuke drooped and let go of Naruto’s arm, trudging back to the table and hoping that there wouldn’t be _another_ lecture about manners and not running in the house again.  
  
“Naruto hasn’t finished his meal yet,” Father said.  
  
Sasuke looked over at Naruto’s bowl and strangely, it was still half-full of rice and fish and it looked like he’d barely touched his miso. That was weird because last night, Naruto had almost had three times the amount Sasuke did and ate nearly half the mochi snacks Mama had given out for dessert. Naruto _loved_ food.  
  
“No, s’okay, Fuguki-san,” Naruto said and didn’t even flinch when Sasuke jabbed him in the ribs, hissing, “Papa’s name’s _Fugaku_ , dummy.”  
  
“You should still eat more,” Mama said and she looked worried, like when Aniki was hurt on a mission or sick. Was Naruto sick? Sasuke pressed a hand on Naruto’s forehead like Mama did. Naruto did look kind of sad and not at all Naruto-like; even the bright orange shirt he wore made him look all droopy.    
  
“I’m not hungry,” Naruto mumbled and he made a little weird frowny face. “Can I go wif Sasuke now?”  
  
“Alright,” Father said and Sasuke nearly jumped up and down but he remember his manners and said thank you in his bestest nicest voice.  
  
“Don’t make a mess, boys,” Father said and Sasuke wasted no time in dragging Naruto away from the dining room and towards his own room. He hurtled down the hallways and slid around on the hardwood floors expertly in his socks and in a few minutes they had made it to his room.  
  
“Woah,” Naruto said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking a little brighter than he did before. “That was fun!”  
  
“Me ‘n’ Aniki do it all the time,” Sasuke said smugly. “Aniki calls it sock sliding ‘cept we can’t tell Mama or Father because they’ll yell at us but Aniki can go super fast like _swoooosh_.” Sasuke mimed Itachi sliding across the floor with his hand and puffed his chest out proudly when Naruto looked suitably impressed.  
  
“Nii-san and I play a game too with Ryou-chan and--” Naruto’s face suddenly crumpled and he started crying, face turning an ugly mottled red.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Sasuke asked and put a hand on Naruto’s forehead again. Maybe Naruto really _was_ sick and that’s why he was here so Mama could help him get better.  
  
“Kakashi-nii has to go away on a mission,” Naruto sniffled, voice sounding all clogged up and weird. “And he left me here all alone with only Ryou.”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Sasuke said and grabbed Naruto’s hand again, this time heading for the gardens outside. He knew how to fix this.  
  
“Where’re we going?” Naruto mumbled, looking vaguely alarmed and excited by the speeds they were sliding around on the floor and within minutes they were out of the house proper and in the gardens, where Mama had planted more of her pretty rose flowers. Sasuke headed straight for the maple tree and scrambled up onto the wooden platform Aniki had built.  
  
“Come on,” he called out, leaning over the edge, reaching out with an open hand. Naruto looked scared for a moment, but only for a moment, before he took Sasuke’s hand. He clambered up the tree and onto the platform, shaded by brilliant red leaves and carpeted by a worn regulation blanket Itachi had given him.  
  
“Wow,” Naruto breathed, his bright blue eyes taking in Sasuke’s secret ninja house.  
  
“Whenever Aniki goes ‘way, I come up here,” Sasuke confided, pulling over a box of old shuriken and kunai he’d collected from the forest, the edges all blunted and rusty. “We made it together and I play up here all the time with him.”  
  
“Itachi’s a ninja too?” Naruto asked curiously, scrunching his face up and his face whiskers got all scrunched up too. "Like for real? I thought you were just making stuff up."  
  
“He’s a _chuunin_ ,” Sasuke said and rolled his eyes. Honestly, Naruto could be such an idiot sometimes. “That means he’s super strong and good and he’s only eleven.”  
  
“Eleven’s old,” Naruto said disgustedly. “And Kakashi-nii-san’s _twenty_.”  
  
Sasuke frowned. “That’s like super old! He’s a ninja too, innit he? What rank is he?”  
  
Naruto scratched his head. “I- eheh-- don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know that he’s super strong and everything and he’s a great ninja, yeah!”  
  
Yeah, Naruto was definitely a dumbo. “He’s gonna come back from the mission,” Sasuke said confidently. “He and Aniki are great ninja so he’ll come back so stop worrying.”  
  
“Yeah, he’s gonna come back,” Naruto echoed and smiled so wide his eyes turned into tiny little lines.  
  
“So, whatcha wanna play?” Sasuke asked, sorting through his box of super shinobi tools. “We can practice with our weapons or we could play tag and we can mebbe visit Aunt Mariko about--”  
  
Itachi dropped onto the platform, a cloud of red maple leaves swirling around him. Sasuke dropped his box and went straight for Itachi’s knees, whooping with joy. “Aniki!”  
  
Itachi did that stupid poking thing but Sasuke was too happy to see his brother to care too much. Now that Itachi and Naruto were here they could play ninjas and pirates and maybe Itachi could take them training and then later they could all have okonomiyaki from Kenichi-san’s shop.  
  
“Kakashi-senpai left behind something I think the two of you would enjoy.” Itachi pulled something out of his pocket and Sasuke zeroed in on the stack of papers he was holding.  
  
“Exploding ink papers,” Naruto breathed and Sasuke looked at his friend with wide eyes. “Like yesterday?”  
  
Itachi nodded and ruffled Naruto’s hair too even though he was _Sasuke’s_ aniki but since Kakashi-nii-san was away Itachi could be Naruto’s aniki for a little bit too. Maybe.  
  
“YEAH!” Naruto bellowed and charged into Sasuke and Itachi and somehow aniki picked up the two of them up from the ground and swung them around in a giant circle. This, Sasuke firmly believed, was the bestest day in the whole world _ever_.


	5. Chapter 5

It was supposed to have been a normal C-Ranked escort mission. Takahari-sensei had let them _finally_ leave Kumo and take on a mission guarding some merchants on their way to Earth Country after a whole six months of nothing but D-Ranked mission involving the daimyo’s wife’s missing cat. It was supposed to have a been an easy job. Bandits were at an all time low, peace with Konoha was still holding and Takahari-sensei said the only rogue samurai stupid enough to take on a jounin from Kumo were the ones that were especially easy to kill.  
  
They weren’t supposed to encounter much trouble. Maybe a thief here and there or a broken cart wheel. It was supposed to be a safe, easy mission. One moment, Megumi had been arguing with her teammate about the order of the watches they would take for the night. The next, a rusty dagger sprouted from her chest. She touched the handle with a shaky hand, slick with her own blood.  
  
Megumi looked up and met the hungry gaze of a demon, red eye seeping with blood. She didn’t even have time to scream before he went for her throat.

* * *

 

Dredging chakra up from hidden reserves, Kakashi twisted his bloody hands into a swift series of seals, converting the vapor in the air into water. Steam rose all around him, hot and swirling in fantastic shapes, before coiling up around the corpses lying on the ground and coalescing into messy puddles of water.  
  
Tenzou looked up from where he was scattering old and rusty senbon on the ground, occasionally tossing a few over his shoulder in the general direction of the bodies. “I haven’t seen that one before,” he asked, voice intrigued.  
  
Kakashi shrugged. He’d picked it up in a solo mission in Water Country after Team Seven had split, leaving him a waist high stack of S-Ranked missions Tsunade wanted completed and no particular self-preservation instinct. “Have to make it look as real as possible,” he said casually. “We _are_ supposed to make it look like a missing-nin from Kiri did this.”  
  
“These look familiar,” Genma said, rifling through a worn leather pouch, picking out several shuriken and kunai with a keen eye. “Definitely the real thing from Kiri, they even have the canoe stamped onto it and everything. Old, which is even better.”  
  
“Yamanaka was very obliging when I went to him for some supplies. We’re using Kakeru’s weapons.” Kakashi rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, feeling the ache of chakra exhaustion already settle deep into his bones. His body wasn’t used to the strain he put on his thirty year old self-- his chakra reserves were half the size of the ones he was normally comfortable with.  
  
“Useful,” Tenzou commented but the sidelong look he sent Kakashi’s way spoke volumes more. Little brat was probably worried he was going to keel over any minute, like he was just some green chuunin who hadn’t even broken in his flak vest and bent over from exhaustion on his first B-Rank mission.  
  
“Very,” Kakashi agreed and made sure to straighten his back.  
  
“Merchants are all tied up,” Raidou said, dropping from a tree branch without a sound. “Genjutsu’s got them all addled and I’ve got them hanging from a twenty footer, they’ll have a shock when they wake up.”  
  
“I’ll take care of them,” Kakashi said and ignored the incredulous look Genma shot his way. “Just finish the bodies, we don’t want Kumo coming after us along with Iwa.”  
  
“Mission’s barely even started and you’re already half dead on your feet, Captain,” Genma said, stooping carefully over one of the Kumo genin, wrapping a thread of wire around her neck and pulling tight. Kakashi looked away, stomach clenching.  
  
“Just finish the job,” he said curtly and melted away into the shadows. It was, Kakashi reflected quietly, going to be a very long two months away from his pack.

* * *

 

Even before the name, it was the chakra signature that gave him away. Kushina had the same boundless energy, a beautiful blue flame spiralling throughout her stomach, protecting the village just by existing. A much smaller and excited version of it bobbed its way through her house and Mikoto smiled, glad that some form of her friend still lived on.  
  
“Yes, Naruto-chan?” Mikoto asked and put down her sewing, enjoying the way his chakra spiked in surprise.  
  
“How’d you know it was me? Kakashi-nii-san and Tenzou always know but that’s cause they’re ninja. Are you a ninja too, Mikoto-san?” Naruto’s eyes were all his father’s, bright and glowing with curiosity.  
  
“I’m a mother,” Mikoto said quietly and reached out, cupping Naruto’s face gently. “We always know. Now, what is it? Do you need something from me?”    
  
The little boy’s face scrunched up, whiskers crinkling and he idly drew patterns on the floor with a foot. “Erm, well, I-- I--erm. IpromisedSakuraIwouldplaywithhertoday,” he blurted out in one long breath, face going red.  
  
Raising two boys and watching countless other Uchiha babies gave Mikoto long practice at discerning the language of six year olds. “Sakura?” Mikoto asked. “Is she a friend from the Temple school?”  
  
Naruto nodded enthusiastically and he broke out into a blinding smile. “We practice kunai throwing and stuff and we played with Ryou-chan and she comes over lots but then I promised to play with her today, but now Kakashi-nii isn’t here but I still want to play and with Sasuke too.”  
  
Mikoto considered Naruto’s request gravely. “Do you know where she lives?”  
  
Naruto shook his head, blond hair flying with the motion. “Nuh uh,” he said, his smile drooping a little. “Kakashi-nii-san knows and he walks us over to drop her off but I forgot where.”  
  
Itachi had been born a wise old man in the body of a baby and had left her side after what seemed like only heartbeat. He was only eleven and already a member of ANBU and a rapidly rising chuunin. Sasuke was already six and soon would be leaving her for the Academy and a world where children were taught how to kill on command. But around Naruto, her children softened and seemed more like their age, laughing and playing, forgetting about the cares of the world, if only for a moment. Mikoto felt a deep shame well up in the bottom of her chest-- a good friend she had been, abandoning her friend’s child to the streets, conveniently forgetting that the demon brat had the eyes of the Yondaime and the bright life of her best friend. It’d been easier to think of Kushina’s baby as lost, killed at the same time as his parents.  
  
Not for the first time, Mikoto quietly blessed Kakashi and the good fortune that brought him and the Uchiha together. “I think I can fix that,” Mikoto said finally and stood up, brushing the dust off her knees. “Would you do me a favor and go get ready with Sasuke-chan?”  
  
“We’re gonna to go out!” Naruto cheered, bouncing up and down on his feet.  
  
“It’s chilly outside, so don’t forget your jackets,” Mikoto smiled and brushed her hand through Naruto’s hair.  
  
Naruto beamed up at her and grabbed at her wrist with his tiny hands, his skin immeasurably warm and soft. “You’re the best, Mikoto-san,” he said, blue eyes turning into happy slits.  
  
Mikoto’s breath caught in her throat and she blinked back hot tears. “Why--” Mikoto paused and swallowed, straining for the Uchiha calm that her Mother had drilled into her since her birth. “Why don’t you call me Aunt instead, Naruto-chan?”  
  
“Like--” Naruto looked up at her, still clinging to her arm with those small hands, his eyes looking impossibly big in his face. “Like family?” he asked, his voice a very small whisper.  
  
“You already have a brother,” Mikoto said, her voice cracking a little. “And a senpai. I think it’s time you had an aunt, don’t you?”  
  
“I’d like that,” Naruto said in that tiny voice. “Aunt Mikoto.”  
  
Mikoto fell to her knees and drew his tiny body close to her chest, her arms circling around his skinny shoulders. A large damp spot grew on the front of her apron but she hardly noticed, pressing a soft kiss on Naruto’s crown. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she wept, crying for her dead friends and the boy she’d thought lost, come back to life and safe in her arms.  
  
“Dun’ cry, Mikoto-oba,” Naruto sniffled, wiping back his own tears and snot with the sleeve of his grubby shirt. “Dun’ be sad.”  
  
“I’m not sad,” Mikoto corrected him gently and wiped Naruto’s face with the hem of her clean apron, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m crying because I’m happy that you’re here.”  
  
“No one’s ever cried for me before,” Naruto said and touched Mikoto’s wet face with a cautious hand, as if afraid that this were all a dream. “They jus’ throw stuff and shout and stuff.”  
  
“Not anymore,” Mikoto promised fiercely. “Not while I’m around.”

* * *

 

When the doorbell rang, Sakura dropped her book and flew out of her room, clattering down the stairs at a speed even Naruto would have been impressed with.  
  
“No running in the house!” Mama shouted but Sakura was already at the door, tugging impatiently at the deadbolt that was just a few inches out of her reach.  
  
“We need to check who’s here first,” Mama reminded her and she peeked through the tiny seeing-hole in the top of the door, ignoring Sakura’s pout.  
  
“Oh-- is-- is Hatake-san married?” Mama asked as she squinted into the tiny hole, brushing her dark hair back from her face.  
  
“No,” Sakura muttered sulkily, kicking at the door with her foot. “Course not, he’s Kakashi-nii-san, he’s not old _old_ and stuff.”  
  
“Strange,” Mama muttered but she unlocked the door and when it opened Sakura launched herself face-first, colliding with her best friend in the whole entire world.  
  
“OW!”  
  
Sakura wondered when Naruto had changed his hair color to black and when his eyes had changed and then realized---  
  
“You’re not Naruto!” she shouted and then blushed, scrambling off of the not-Naruto she’d knocked onto the ground.  
  
“What are ya, blind?” Naruto laughed, right next to her and Sakura was _so_ tempted to punch him but Mama was standing right next to her and she was probably already mad about her pushing the not-Naruto onto the ground.  
  
“I’m not blind,” Sakura said instead and stuck her tongue out and then Mama put her hand on Sakura’s shoulder and she didn’t sound very happy at _all_.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Mama said in that grown-up voice and she bowed very deeply. “I thought I had raised my daughter to be better than this, but it seems that I still have much to teach her. You have my sincerest apologies, ma’am.”  
  
“Oh, there was no harm done,” a pretty lady next to Naruto laughed, covering up her mouth with her hand like Mama always told Sakura to do and she bowed as well. She had the prettiest black hair and the biggest eyes and she looked like one of the beautiful ladies in Mama’s magazines who were always making flower vases.  
  
“I’m Sasuke,” not-Naruto sniffed, picking himself off the ground and sticking his nose up in the air like Ami whenever she had a new doll and wanted to show it off. “And I bet you can’t even see at all if you think I look like _him_.”  
  
“Sasuke!” the pretty lady said in a grown-up voice and then bowed again. “My apologies, Haruno-san, it seems my son has manners to learn as well. Hatake Kakashi asked us to look after Naruto while he was away for a mission and Naruto-chan mentioned that there was a play date arranged beforehand. I hope you don’t mind that my son is here as well, Haruno-san.”  
  
“Oh no!” Mama hand tightened on her shoulder and she opened the door wider. “Of course not...”  
  
“Uchiha Mikoto,” the pretty lady smiled and Sakura’s heart thudded in her chest. An _Uchiha!_ They were one of the big super strong ninja clans in the village and they had the best shinobi and lots of them were in the police too! Sakura had seen them around in the market and when Sakura was a baby, her Papa always said that bad girls were taken away by the big scary Uchiha policemen.  
  
“O-oh, Uchiha-san, please come in, oh my goodness,” Mama fluttered and she stepped back from the door, dragging Sakura in as she ushered in mean not-Naruto-Sasuke, Naruto and pretty Uchiha-san. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait outside and of course, you must stay for tea while the children play in the yard outside.”  
  
“It was no trouble,” the nice Uchiha lady said and every move she made looked so airy and gentle, like she was one of those angels from the TV dramas Mama watched when Sakura had her snack-time after school. “You have a beautiful home.”  
  
Mama went all pink and she bowed again. “Oh, the place is a mess, we’ve only moved here a few months ago for my husband’s job and I still haven’t properly unpacked.”  
  
Sakura fidgeted impatiently while Uchiha-san and Naruto and not-Naruto-Sasuke put on their house shoes.  
  
“Can we go now?” she whispered tugging on Mama’s dress. “Please, Mama, please please please?”  
  
“Not now!” Mama whispered back, looking very fierce and stern. “We have very important guests here.”  
  
“I’m sure the children would rather play instead,” Uchiha-san said very kindly and Sakura blushed-- Mama would be so mad that the lady heard her say rude stuff! “I’m sure they don’t want to listen to their mothers drink tea and gossip about the village.”  
  
“Oh well, if you think so,” Mama said a little uncertainly. “Only in the yard, you mustn't go anywhere else and straight back inside when I call for you.”  
  
“Thank you Mama!” Sakura beamed and raced over to Naruto’s side, scooping up his ninja sandals with one hand and her playing shoes with the other. “We’ll be extra _extra_ good,” she promised. “Follow me,” she said importantly to Naruto and not-Naruto-Sasuke and made sure to walk to the back of the house extra slowly and carefully so Mama didn’t have to yell at her for running in the house.  
  
“You do have a nice house!” Naruto said, looking very impressed at the paintings on the walls that Papa had made and the new squeaky hardwood floors.  
  
“S’not as nice as _my_ house,” not-Naruto-Sasuke said in that stupid Ami voice and Sakura wanted to stomp on his foot but she was a little too scared to. Thankfully, she had Naruto, who promptly punched not-Naruto-Sasuke for her.  
  
“Don’t be stupid Sasuke,” Naruto said, hands on his hips. “Sakura’s my friend so stop being mean to her.”  
  
“Whatever,” not-Naruto said but Sakura couldn’t stop smiling as she lead them to the yard door in the back of the house.  
  
“House shoes go here,” she pointed at the mat in front of the glass sliding doors. “And we can put on our playing shoes in the yard.”  
  
“Alright!” Naruto pumped his fist. “Wait til you see the cool new toy Kakashi-nii-san made, it’s the bestest game in the world ever!”  
  
“It’s not a toy, it’s ‘sploding seals,” not-Naruto said but even he sounded excited when he pulled on his own ninja sandals.  
  
“Like chakra exploding tags?” Sakura asked, trying to ignore how both Naruto _and_ Sasuke had ninja sandals and how she was the only one who had dumb normal shoes. “I read about them, I thought only ninja could use them?”  
  
“You’ll see,” Naruto said secretively and pulled open the door.

* * *

 

It was just like tag but _better_.  
  
It was like tag and shougi and ninjas and pirates all wrapped into one giant ink sploding game and Sakura loved it. She pulled a tag out of her pocket and slammed it down on the ground, smearing the release mark with a finger. An entire cloud of black smoke exploded in front of her and Sakura dove away, enjoying the way Naruto shrieked like a little baby and Sasuke shouted that he was going to hurt her.  
  
Now it was just a waiting game. Sakura sat on the edge of the smoke cloud and listened to the loud voices, tag in hand. Naruto was still coughing and shouting in the middle but it sounded like Sasuke was pushing his way out to the edge. He’d gone all quiet but Sakura could hear coughing sounds coming from her left.  
  
She stood up, pulled out her last tag from her pocket and waited for Sasuke to come out of the cloud of inky smoke. The look on his face when she slapped the tag onto his forehead was something, Sakura decided, she would never ever forget.

* * *

 

“You’re pretty ok for a _girl_ ,” Sasuke said a little grudgingly, munching on a cookie Mama had made for yesterday’s snack time.  
  
“She’s more than ok!” Naruto said, spraying crumbs everywhere as he spoke. “Sakura-chan knows _everything_ and she’s the coolest cause we’re friends!”  
  
Sakura nibbled on her cookie and quietly thought that Sasuke was ok too, even if he sounded like Ami sometimes but he was Naruto’s friend too. “If we’re both Naruto’s friends,” she said a little tentatively. “Maybe we could be friends too?”  
  
Sasuke looked up from his cookie. “I guess,” he said and Sakura beamed at him.  
  
“I have two friends now,” Naruto said and he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’ve never had so many friends before.” His voice was all wobbly and squeaky like he was gonna cry.  
  
Sakura swallowed. “Me neither,” she said in a very quiet voice. Before Naruto, no one had liked her very much, calling her stupid names about her forehead and always ripping up her books. Now, she had play dates and at school she got to sit next to a friend and share lunch and talk about how boring class was. Now, she could play cool ninja games and meet new friends, new people.  
  
Sasuke looked away and shoved a cookie in his mouth. “I have my aniki and cousins and stuff,” he mumbled.  
  
“That’s family. You have a Mama and a Papa and brothers and stuff but that’s different,” Sakura said instantly. “We’re _friends_.”  
  
“Best friends,” Naruto said solemnly and stuck his hand out. Sakura put her hand on top of it like in the cartoon she’d seen on TV with the samurai warriors, each of them a different color of the rainbow. After a moment, Sasuke put his hand on top of that and they all grinned at each other.  
  
“We hafta promise to help each other out and stuff because that’s what friends do,” Naruto said in a serious voice. “Like we’re family for each other.”  
  
“I promise,” Sasuke said and Sakura almost jumped, surprised that he had spoken up first. That meant Sasuke would help her out too and so would Naruto and she would have to do the same. Sakura closed her eyes and remembered how Naruto had punched Ami in the face and helped her up from the ground.  
  
“I promise too,” Sakura said firmly. “I’ll hurt anyone whoever tries to make fun of you guys,” she said, trying to make her voice as fierce and strong as possible.  
  
“It’s the promise of a lifetime!” Naruto shouted and dove at the two of them, bulldozing them into the ground with his hug.  
  
“Get off me stupid!” Sasuke shouted but he didn’t bother to push Naruto off and Sakura laughed, her chest filling up with so much happiness that she thought she was going to explode like one of the ‘sploding seal tags.

* * *

 

“You look...not like you,” Tenzou said, tilting his head like a bird.  
  
“I think that’s the whole point of going incognito,” Kakashi said drily and accepted the towel the younger man handed him, rubbing his dyed hair briskly. He’d substituted his headband (safely sealed away in a containment scroll, along with his uniform and ninjato) with an eyepatch, chakra seal sewed onto the inside to mask the presence of his Sharingan. The borrowed merchant’s clothes fit oddly, too short at the leg and too broad at the shoulders but it couldn’t be helped for now. He’d have to ask Raidou to do some mending later that night.  
  
Tenzou had combed out his scruffy brown hair, parting it neatly at the side. In a pair of slacks and a loose-fitting Lightning shirt, he looked like any ordinary teenaged boy, following his older brother into the family business.  
  
“Relax your stance,” Kakashi said and tossed the towel back at him, streaks of brown liberally streaking it. “You’re supposed to be a civilian, not a killer.”  
  
Tenzou caught it handily, eyes narrowing a little. “You’re one to talk, Captain.”  
  
Kakashi shrugged bonelessly and strolled over to the campfire, giving Genma and Raidou approving nods. They were lounging casually on the sleeping bags they’d taken from the merchants, dressed as his cousin and manservant respectively.  
  
“Gruel’s almost done, sir,” Raidou said, straightening up a little as Kakashi settled on his haunches next to him, warming his cold hands up in front of the fire. “Saved it before the idiot over there overcooked it because he was too busy braiding his hair into a fancy tail.”  
  
“Some of us were blessed with good looks,” Genma grinned, looking strange without his customary senbon dangling from his lips. “It’s only right that I should take the time to make myself look nice for the ladies.”  
  
“Travel papers?” Kakashi said, flexing his fingers and running them through warm up exercises. His sealing speed was disgustingly slow compared to where he’d had it beforehand. It took him a good minute to work through the entire sequence and he bit back a scowl. Without a mask to cover his expressions he’d have to be more careful about what he let show on his face. Resisting the urge to pull up his neckline and press his chin into his chest, he repeated the sequences, over and over again.  
  
“All doctored up to match our faces. You’re looking at a new man,” Raidou said, watching Kakashi’s hands with mild interest. “Sato Kenichi at your service, master.”  
  
“Watanabe Riku,” Genma put in lazily. “Your experienced and much more handsome older cousin, guiding you in the fine Watanabe tradition of selling Lightning Country textiles.”  
  
“Watanabe Ryou,” Tenzou said quietly, settling himself down next to Genma. “I believe that I’m to be your younger brother, Captain.”  
  
“Which leaves me Watanabe Ichirou,” Kakashi concluded, hands automatically working through the seals for _Chidori_. He stopped mid-sequence and forced himself to switch to a different jutsu. _Chidori_ left a distinctive mark-- it was associated with Konoha’s ANBU and would just be another clue that would implicate the village. Earth justus would be safer.  
  
“The merchants have been taken care of,” Tenzou said, face shadowed.  
  
“Good,” Kakashi breathed out, long and slow. “We’ll have a good week of travel ahead of us before we hit one of the border posts and ask them for entrance into Iwa. It should give us more than enough time to adjust to our cover and gather intel on the mark. Jutsu use is forbidden from here on out until we hit the village unless it’s an emergency.”  
  
Tenzou opened his mouth but Kakashi shook his head. “Especially you. Mokuton’s a dead giveaway for Konoha. Besides, it’s been high time that you learned how to act like a civilian.”  
  
“I know the basics,” Tenzou said stiffly and Raidou barked out a rough laugh.  
  
“Kid,” Raidou wheezed, “that shit they teach in the Academy is worth next to nothing. Masking your chakra’s fine and easy enough, but you’ve gotta work on your stance, your reflexes. Gotta walk the walk, talk the talk and pray that some ninja doesn’t figure out that you’re actually more than what you seem.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter if you’re more powerful or if you can beat him in a fight.” Genma’s mouth twitched, like he was chewing on an invisible senbon. “Your life isn’t at stake here-- the integrity of the mission is. One person knows and the entire treaty between Iwa and Konoha goes up in _flames_.”  
  
“I can do this,” Tenzou said stubbornly.  
  
“Of course _we_ can,” Genma grinned. “Who the hell do you think we are?”  
  
“Only the best squad in the entire Corps,” Raidou chimed in, right on cue. “Delta Squad, captained by the finest operative to ever serve the village.”  
  
“Me,” Kakashi said, deadpan.  
  
There was a very long silence as all three of his subordinates stared at Kakashi, identical looks of terror on their faces.  
  
“What?” he asked, fighting the urge to cover his face with his hands. He could smell their fear and-- apprehension?  
  
“You-- you just made a joke, sir,” Genma said feebly, the only one brave or stupid enough to speak up.  
  
“You never make jokes,” Raidou said faintly. “You tell _us_ to stop joking, sir.”  
  
Kakashi tucked his chin into his chest. It was amazing what a difference ten years would make. He’d forgotten how much he’d changed after leaving the Corps, leaving behind the bone-white armor and mask and taking up the traditional flak vest and erotic literature. Twenty year old Kakashi knew nothing but the mission and long hours at the Memorial, bowed down by the weight of old ghosts and a crushing guilt. He’d kept his teammates at a careful distance, his heart too tattered and his mind too afraid to handle another Obito or Rin. It was only when he’d _left_ that Kakashi had gotten to know all three of his former teammates better.  
  
“I guess you just haven’t been listening hard enough,” Kakashi said and resolved to be a better Captain, this time around.  
  
“Another one,” Raidou said and what little color was in his cheeks instantly disappeared.  
  
“You don’t look surprised,” Genma said shrewdly, looking pointedly at Tenzou, who looked a little alarmed at the sudden attention.  
  
“Er,” Tenzou said and gave Kakashi a quick and panicky look. Kakashi happily ignored it and threw his precious little kouhai to the sharks.  
  
“Captain’s had a peaceful retirement?” Tenzou said quickly, sounding more like he was asking Genma than answering him. “Maybe he’s taken up telling jokes as a hobby.”  
  
“I thought I’d try new things in my old age,” Kakashi threw in and Tenzou looked at him gratefully.  
  
“Speaking of new things and retirement,” Genma said eagerly. “Rumor is you’ve gotten domestic, Captain.”  
  
Kakashi bit back a groan. He should have known the ANBU rumor mill would have had a field day with his decision to take on Naruto as his ward.  
  
“New things, new hobbies,” he muttered vaguely. “He’s a good boy.”  
  
“Never thought of you as a parental figure,” Raidou said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “He’s _that_ boy, isn’t he?”  
  
“So what if he is?” Tenzou said a little vehemently and Kakashi looked at the younger boy, eye widening a little. It seemed Naruto, even at the tender age of six, had managed to work his friendship magic over Tenzou as well. “He’s a good kid and he doesn’t deserve what the villagers are saying about him. The Yondaime chose him to save the village.”  
  
“Yeah, by holding a demonic force in his stomach that killed hundreds of shinobi,” Genma muttered. “Look, I know it’s not the kid’s fault but--” He shrugged. “Still makes me uncomfortable as hell to think about.”  
  
“Naruto isn’t the kyuubi,” Tenzou said firmly and Kakashi couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face the pride that welled up in his chest. He had a good pack.  
  
“Why’d you leave him anyway?” Raidou asked, eyes keen. “I mean, you did adopt him, right? And you’re technically off ANBU active duty rosters.”  
  
Kakashi considered Raidou’s question for a long moment, staring at the flickering embers of the campfire. Why _had_ he come? There was the possibility that the team would succeed without him,  however slim. True enough, Danzou had done this to remove ANBU of his influence, no doubt scared by Kakashi’s sudden entrance into the Council and his alliance with the Uchiha. But he could have started again, even without Delta Squad. There was still the Commander and Uzuki’s squad and a couple other that he could trust. It would have been hard and no doubt ROOT would grow to fill Delta’s absence, but it was still possible to fight Danzou. By leaving the village, he’d taken himself out of the Council, had left Naruto at the mercy of a man who was busy planning a coup against the Hokage and sent himself to Iwa on a potentially lethal mission all on a gamble that the completed mission would mean leverage over a power-crazed Councilman. If it worked (of which there was a very tiny chance, but still larger than if his team had gone without him), it would mean that he had concrete evidence to present to the Council and the Hokage against Danzou. If it didn't, Konoha would be at war and Danzou would gain more power.  
  
“Because you’re my team,” Kakashi said. “And Danzou’s not going to send you on a suicidal mission without me to save your collective asses.”  
  
Kakashi looked at the three hardened faces before him and accepted that they’d been pack from the very beginning-- not Obito, not Rin, not sensei, but still pack. He’d have to trust that Team 7 would be alright without him and concentrate on the people in front of him.  
  
“You know,” Raidou said, his voice a little rough. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”  
  
“Wow, you’ve lead a pretty pathetic life, Raidou,” Genma said, punching his teammate’s shoulder but even he looked a little sentimental.  
  
“I’d have to agree,” Tenzou said, his voice soft but when he looked up at Kakashi, his dark eyes were proud.  
  
Kakashi looked away, his chest tightening. He’d bring them all back alive, no matter what. He’d promised himself that he would.

* * *

 

“Read me that list over again and slowly,” Sarutobi said slowly, his tone brooking no dissent. “The active duty roster, subsection C.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” the chuunin said --his name was Ren, Saurtobi believed, doing his time in the administrative bureau while his ribs healed from the last B-Ranked mission he took outside the country. A good boy, his parents ran a wonderful ramen shop on Main Street.  
  
“Yamamoto Hanako, Jin, Uzuki Yuugao, Shiranui Genma, Namiashi Raidou, Suzuki Saburou, Sato Kaede, Hatake Kakashi--”  
  
“You may stop.” Sarutobi threaded his fingers together and frowned. “Why is Hatake Kakashi on the active duty roster?”  
  
Ren adjusted his spectacles and squinted at the scroll he held up into the light. “I believe it says here--” The chuunin frowned. “The notation has him on a classified mission, sir. Should I pull up his file for you, Hokage-sama?”  
  
“Please,” Sarutobi said and watched the chuunin bustle out of his office, scroll tucked into the crook of his elbow. What, exactly, was Hatake Kakashi doing outside of the country on a classified mission when he was supposed to be looking after Uzumaki Naruto? Sarutobi considered his options. On a classified mission outside the country-- the mission would certainly come straight from his desk and he didn’t recall debriefing Kakashi-kun for one. And any request for extra personnel would have to be approved him personally as well.  
  
Which meant--  
  
Sarutobi pulled out his pipe and lit it with a snap of his fingers, breathing in deeply, smoke filling up his chest. Danzou was meddling again. From the sound of it, Delta Squad was deployed for service out of the country, no doubt on an assassination mission. If Kakashi had followed his team and left the country, defying direct orders from the Hokage...  
  
Ren returned with a slim file in hand, looking slightly pained as a cloud of smoke floated towards him. “I’ve brought the most recent one, Hokage-sama. It seemed prudent considering his files take up an entire cabinet.”  
  
“Very prudent,” Sarutobi agreed and accepted the file. “You may leave now, Ren-san. We shall finish the roster arrangements later.”  
  
A quick bow and murmured thanks later, Sarutobi was left alone with his thoughts, young Kakashi’s file and his pipe. Flipping it open with wrinkled hands, he considered the innocent looking paper on top; it was a copy of a processed request of form 36B-AZ, requesting Kakashi for a classified mission, with nearly everything but Kakashi’s name and the date blocked out by the censors. There was a brief notation requisitioning four vials of vaccine for the Shinzi pox, common in Stone Country.  
  
It was dated three days ago.  
  
The only time form 36B-AZ was ever used was in conjunction with ANBU. Sarutobi leaned back in his chair and gripped the stem of his pipe with his teeth, blowing out a stream of smoke from his nose.  
  
Hatake Kakashi was out of the country on a classified mission. He was requested as a special non-ANBU associate. He was most likely travelling with Delta Squad. He had left Naruto in the village. Delta Squad was out of the country on a mission he had no knowledge, which meant that the Commander or Danzou had authorized it, but Arakaki always made sure to update him on any missions his Corps was sent out on. Which, logically, left Danzou.  
  
Sarutobi didn’t very much like the way the pieces were falling together. He rubbed his temples with weary hands and silently cursed Minato for being a foolhardy self-sacrificing heroic Hokage. Some days, it helped with the headaches. Today, it seemed, even cursing his dead successor’s name would be no help.  
  
Orochimaru. Danzou. Naruto.  
  
Some days, it seemed like his mistakes were all he could ever think about. He thought he was teaching a prodigy, his successor, his son. Instead, it turned out he was teaching his prize student how to be a mass murderer and a traitor. He’d let ROOT grow wild during the Third Shinobi War, too busy trying to win a war; when it’d ended he thought he’d stamped it out but Danzou was too clever, moving his operatives deeper into the shadows. And now Kakashi was caught in that tangled mess, sent out on a mysterious mission with his team, far outside of the safety of the village.  
  
Away from Naruto.  
  
He should have known that Danzou would have been upset with Kakashi’s introduction into the Council. Sarutobi opened his eyes and flared his chakra. Within moments a guard materialized in front of him, kneeling in a formal salute.  
  
“Find out where Uzumaki Naruto is staying in the village. Observe but do not intrude unless he is in danger. Report back to me as soon as possible.”  
  
The guard nodded deeply and disappeared into the shadows.  
  
Sarutobi put his pipe down on his desk and sighed. He was getting too damned old for this.

* * *

 

At the knock on the door, the entire room started, Sharingan flashing in a few faces. Aya was bristling with kunai while Shisui was already forming seals to cloak the entire room in a heavy genjutsu. Itachi raised a hand and cocked his head, checking the presence hovering right outside the room.  
  
“Hold,” he said calmly. He stood up from the table and made his way over to the door, the tomoe of his Sharingan swirling lazily. He opened the door and bowed deeply, ponytail swinging with the motion.  
  
“Hello, Mother,” Itachi said.  
  
Uchiha Mikoto smiled. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” she said gently. “But I didn’t want to give away my presence.”  
  
“It was well thought of you,” Itachi returned and stood aside to let his mother into the cramped room, letting everyone see his deactivated eyes.  
  
“Mikoto-oba-san,” Shisui said, standing up cautiously. Itachi noted that he had released his prepared genjutsu, chakra flowing normally. “I didn’t realize-- that--” Shisui stopped and swallowed.  
  
“I am a little old,” his Mother agreed and she made her way into a corner of the room, settling down next to Aya gracefully. “I’m sorry dear, but there’s hardly enough room to breathe in here.”  
  
“P-please, Mikoto-sama,” Aya stammered and gave up her cushion for older lady, kunai long forgotten.  
  
The average age of the shinobi in this room was, Itachi admitted, very young, with Itachi himself at the youngest and Kaede the oldest at the age of twenty-three.  
  
“I don’t mean to be rude, Mikoto-sama, but--” Kenji swallowed, looking nervous. He was a civilian and had less training to hide his emotions. “Do-- do they know?”  
  
“Oh no,” Mother said serenely. “You’ve been very careful, keeping quiet and changing meeting times and places like this. It took me awhile to see to follow Itachi-kun, what with all the false trails and doubling back he did.”  
  
“How did you know?” Itachi asked, sitting back down at his place again.  
  
“You’re my son,” Mother said and reached out to pat Itachi’s hand. “How could I not know that you’re working on a seditious plan to go against the elders and your father? I just thought it was time that I joined you. Not all of us old people like the plan, you know.”  
  
“But the Clan Head’s word is law,” Shisui said quietly. “We could rightly be tried and executed under clan law or stripped of our name and heritage.”  
  
“I know,” Mother said quietly. “But I can no longer watch and see this continue. It will ruin the Uchiha and it will ruin the village. I will not have Sasuke grow up in a world where the Uchiha have ruined the village.” Or not grow up at all, executed by the Council for associating with a treasonous clan. “We’ve been entrusted with the care of Uzumaki Naruto,” Mother continued and there were gasps all around the room.  
  
“But-- but he’s--” Aya breathed in sharply.  
  
“The container for the kyuubi,” Itachi said calmly. “A six year old boy chosen by the Yondaime Hokage who has a demon sealed inside of him to protect the village.”  
  
“It is an _honor_ to care for him,” Mother said firmly. “Without him, the village would be but ash in the wind and we dishonor the Yondaime’s sacrifice to think otherwise. And he’s also a very sweet boy.”  
  
“And the Hokage trusts _us_ , the Uchiha, with him?” Shisui asked, raising an eyebrow. “As I recall, many blamed us for the attack, accusing us of controlling the fox into attacking Konoha.”  
  
“Hatake Kakashi does,” Kaede put in and the room instantly quieted. “I was standing guard on the day they came for dinner with Fugaku-sama.”  
  
“So the rumors _are_ true,” Kenji said, brow furrowed. “Hatake-san has taken custody of the boy and reclaimed his seat on the Council.”  
  
“It does mean that the Clan will be under greater scrutiny than before,” Itachi realized, the gears in his mind whirring. Kakashi-senpai was _very_ clever. “It’s a test.”  
  
“If we can use this time to show the Council and the Hokage what the village means to the Uchiha,” Mother said quietly, “perhaps the elders and my husband will also realize what the Uchiha means to the village. Already Hatake has moved to show that it stands with the Uchiha against Danzou.”  
  
“We don’t have much time,” Shisui said grimly, hands clenched into tight fists. “The elders are growing restless and angry.”  
  
“Then we’ll just have to work harder,” Aya put in, her voice determined. “We have to save the clan.”  
  
“Amaterasu bless us and give us strength,” Mother prayed, hands clasped together in her lap. Itachi silently made his own prayers to the goddess: _Amaterasu, this lowly one begs this of you—keep my brother safe._

 


	6. Chapter 6

“ _The moon has come out_

_Oh, the moon has come out, heave ho_

_Over the coal mine the moon has come out_.”

Ichirou idly scratched his nose, head instinctively bobbing along to the song Kenichi was singing in his deep baritone. The man had a good voice and his company was not bad on the road; his sword arm even better during the long nights.

“I didn’t know K-Kenichi-san could sing,” Ryou said in a strange sort of voice, his dark eyes pensive.

Ichirou rolled his eyes at his younger brother and elbowed him in the ribs. “You’ve heard him around the warehouse, helping Father move and guard the silk from Tea Country. Oh wait-- I forgot, you’re always hiding out in your room with the latest book from Kojiro’s!”

“Nothing wrong with reading a good book or two,” Ryou muttered, rubbing his side with exaggerated motion. “Besides, I have to make up for all the books you and Riku-kun don’t read.”

“I read and help Mother with the accounts and that’s enough book-reading for any man,” Ichirou grinned and flicked Ryou’s forehead. “Be grateful you’re the second son, brat.”

“Nii-san!” Ryou squirmed as he slid on the precarious edge of the wagon, feet dangling dangerously close to the moving dirt path below them.

“Stop teasing the baby, Ichi,” Riku’s lazy voice floated towards the back. “I don’t want to explain to Auntie how I came to lose my little baby cousin on his first big boy trip outside the village.”

“I’m fifteen!” Ryou said indignantly.

“An ickle wee bairn,” Ichirou agreed and easily dodged Ryou’s punch aimed at his shoulder. “Gotta be quicker than that, bratling.”

“Halt!”

The wagon slowly creaked to a stop, old Jin stomping her feet and shaking the reins Riku held in his hands. Ichirou scrambled off the edge of the wagon and grabbed the leather satchel at his side, racing towards the front where Riku was swinging down from the saddle.

“Where’s the voice coming from?” Ryou whispered at Ichirou’s elbow as Riku dug through the satchel and pulled out a carefully wrapped packet in oilcloth.

“Shinobi,” Ichirou whispered back and watched Ryou’s dark eyes widen.

“State your name and purpose,” the voice echoed, bouncing off the walls of the rock canyon and turning into an entire chorus of questions.

Ever-confident Riku’s voice shook a little as he answered. “Watanabe Riku, of Watanabe Textiles, shinobi-san. We come to beg entrance to Iwagakure.”

There was a long silence; reassuringly Kenichi appeared behind Ryou, his tall, broad frame dwarfing his little brother and admittedly, Ichriou’s own. He was about to open his mouth to reassure Ryou, when the shinobi-san appeared.

In the span between one heartbeat and another, a man simply grew out of the ground in front of Riku. There was no other word for it. Ichirou had only ever seen shinobi a few times before, when he followed Father to Kumogakure, but no ninja he had ever seen had simply risen from the ground, like a fey being rising from the earth. He even looked like a rock, covered in a dusty brown chest plate, with long one cotton sleeve of crimson red covering his right arm. A silver forehead protector, engraved with the twin boulder of Iwa, gleamed on his dark head.

“Your papers, Watanabe Riku,” the man rumbled.

Riku mutely handed the packet over.

The man deftly unwrapped the package and flipped through the papers in what seemed like an eternity, even though Ichirou knew it was only, perhaps, a few seconds. The man finally grunted and carelessly rewrapped the bundle, handing it over to Riku. “You may wait inside the post while we draw up your paperwork and find a guide for you.”

RIku bowed and Ichirou followed suit, giving Ryou a warning look to mind his manners before he did so. “Thank you, shinobi-san. We are in your debt.” When Ichirou looked up from the ground, the shinobi was gone. The only thing that marked his presence was the slight ripple of dirt where he had stood, but even that too faded away after a few minutes.

“Wow,” Ryou breathed out shakily.

“Yeah,” Ichirou agreed, feeling just as nervous as Ryou looked.

“Shinobi,” Riku muttered, shaking his head and handed the oilcloth back to Ichirou. “Pack this safe, cuz.”

Ichirou took it back obediently and tucked it back into the satchel, swinging it over his shoulder when he was done. “We can put Jin and the wagon over behind that clump of rocks, they should be safe enough there.”

Ryou looked at him, incredulous. “No one’s going to steal them?”

“Child, no one’s fool enough to steal from an Iwa outpost,” Kenichi said, his voice quiet. “Stealing is a serious offense, punishable by death.”

“So don’t you worry none, baby cuz,” Riku said breezily, clapping Ryou’s shoulders heartily. “It’s real cute when you get all worried though.”

“Oh, shut up Riku,” Ryou mumbled, the tips of his ears burning a little. “Don’t we have to go inside anyway?”

Inside turned out to be a dubious looking cavern in the side of the rock canyon, so gloomy and dank looking that even the sunlight seemed afraid to enter its depths.

“Are you sure about this?” Ichirou asked, raising a dark eyebrow skeptically.

“Just trust me on this,” Riku said lightly, but it sounded a little forced to his ears. Holding his breath, Ichirou walked into the dark cave and into light.

It was like passing through a sheet of freezing cold water. He shuddered for one long moment and when he opened his eyes, he had entered an entirely different world. Instead of a dark cave, he had entered the inside of a castle from the storybooks. The walls were lined with gleaming crystal rocks that glowed an eerie luminescent color, giving everything a strange green cast. He looked up and saw strange designs mark the domed ceiling, swirling around massive chunks of stone shot through with light. Ichirou couldn’t help gripping the strap on his shoulder a little harder.

“Can I help you?”

In front of them, a ninja writing in a fat book looked up from his worktable, his dark face ghoulish in the strange light. Behind him, a huge wall rose up from the ground and all the way up to the domed ceiling, sealing the secrets of the shinobi behind stone that looked to be as thick as a rich man’s waist.

“Watanabe Textiles,” Riku began but the ninja waved his hand and cut him off.

“Oh yeah, Masashi mentioned you guys. Alright, have a seat, we’ll have your papers done soon enough. “ He returned back to scribbling in his book and Riku turned around, shrugging a little.

They shuffled towards the benches lining one wall of the cavern. The seats looked like they were grown from the ground and the wall, worn smooth by countless bottoms over the years. Ryou swung himself down, Kenichi at his side and Riku at his other. Ichirou remained standing, looking far beyond the ninja at the desk and the huge stone walls that he was guarding.

“Nii-san, what are you--”

Ichirou shrugged a little and the strap slid on his shoulder. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said and the need in him grew so much he knew that if he didn’t go to the bathroom now, there was a terrible chance he might just explode from an overly full bladder.

“Jeez, couldn’t you have taken care of it outside?” In the strange light, Ryou’s look of disgust looked kind of like one of the demon masks they sold at festivals.

“They probably have plumbing,” Ichirou pointed out. Running water! Soap! Flushing toilets! Ichirou missed civilization. “Anyway it can’t hurt to ask.”

“Your neck,” Riku said, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. “Well, guess I’ll just tell Uncle Jiro that Ryou’ll be the one inheriting instead.”

“Not funny.” Ichirou punched Riku’s shoulder, probably a little harder than he should have, but the jerk deserved it. He made his way back to the desk, heart thumping in his chest and the opportunity of using a bathroom hovering right behind those stone walls. 

“E-excuse me, shinobi-san?”

“What is it?” The man didn’t bother to look up from his work.

“Would it be possible, er, if I could use your bathroom?"

The man put down his pen and raised an eyebrow. “You want to use our bathroom.”

Ichirou nodded, heart in his throat. “Running water,” he croaked. “We’ve been travelling for weeks and if you would be so kind, shinobi-san...”

The man sighed. “Damned civilians,” he muttered and dug through one of the drawers in the desk, fishing out a stained and crumpled looking piece of paper with some beautiful calligraphy on it. _Person where_? Ichirou could barely make heads or tails of the writing on it.

“Bag,” the ninja demanded and Ichirou obediently handed over the leather satchel. The ninja opened it up and carelessly rifled through the contents; Ichirou tried not to wince when he saw how rudely the man handled their travel papers and the packet of dried persimmons Mother had packed for the journey.

“Alright, your bag’s clean,” he grunted. “Now, give me your arm.”

Swallowing, Ichirou hesitantly bared his arm and held it over to the shinobi, who slapped the paper onto his skin. It burned like a hot coal and Ichirou gasped, bluish white dots sparking at the edges of his vision.

“Pansy ass,” the man snorted. The pain slowly subsided and the characters on the seal were now burned onto his forearm, the edges of the black marks glowing a soft, faint blue.

“You go anywhere you’re not supposed to, I’ll _know_ ,” the man growled, making the hairs on the back of Ichirou’s neck slowly rise.

“Yes sir,” he gasped. Suddenly, the prospect of using the bathroom didn’t seem as thrilling as before. The man pushed his chair back and stood up, knees audibly popping as he did so. He did something strange with his fingers and suddenly a small door appeared in the wall behind the desk, a doorknob slowly molding itself into shape.

“Straight down the hallway, make a right and it’ll be the second door on your left. Straight there and back and if you go anywhere else--” the man jerked his head at Ryou and Riku, who were the conversation watching with wide eyes. “Understand?”

“Yes,” Ichirou said and nodded furiously.

“Good.” The man settled back down into his chair, picked up his pen and began writing in his mysterious book again. Ichirou quickly swiped his bag off the table and skirted around it, heading for the door in the wall. The doorknob felt cold to the touch. There was no turning back. Ichirou resisted the urge to look back at his brother and opened the door.

* * *

 

Ichirou looked at the mirror and his pale, dark-haired self stared back, the strap of a dark eyepatch cutting neatly through his slicked back hair. With trembling fingers he raised the patch up and pulled it off his head, setting it down on the edge of the sink with trembling fingers. A scar cut through his left eyelid and a good inch into his cheek. It was cold to the touch. Ichirou opened his left eye and watched as the eye of a demon came to life in his reflection.

“ _I am Hatake Kakashi_.”

The tomoe of the eye swirled furiously, until the pinwheel of dark blots became a circle of black ringing his pupil. “ _Kai_ ,” he whispered and the illusion shattered.

Kakashi staggered towards the toilet and retched violently, falling clumsily onto his knees. For one terrifying moment he had no idea what was up or down and clung helplessly to the toilet bowl, his greased hair sticking to his clammy cheek. The only certainty in his life was the constant wave of nausea wracking his stomach.

In what seemed like an eternity, reality slowly fell back into place, piece by piece. The dry heaves slowly stopped and Kakashi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the sharp taste of bile. Moving carefully, he reached out for the metal handle and pulled down, flushing away his sick.

He hadn’t expected the backlash to hit him quite so hard. Kakashi stood up carefully, letting tiny streams of chakra flood through his limbs and lend him strength to carefully walk over to the sink. He turned on the faucet and splashed his face with deliciously cool water, cupping it in his hands and greedily drinking it in.

The entire week leading up to their stop here, he had worked extensively on his Liar’s Palace, building up Watanabe Ichirou in a small corner of his mind-- slowly putting together the eldest son of a middling class merchant from a rural village in Lightning Country, protective older brother and heir to a business that had been passed down from father to son for generations. It was standard practice to build and maintain a cover in infiltration missions. But the Sharingan helped him take it a step further and briefly _be_ the cover-- the room where he had set aside for Watanabe became his illusory mind and Kakashi had retreated into the far corner of himself, letting the cover play out by itself, only impressing vague suggestions and thoughts onto Ichirou’s mind.

With the Sharingan, the Liar’s Palace became more than a defense mechanism for a spy and an illusion so complete that he forgot who he was. Needless to say, it was also incredibly dangerous and possibly could labeled as a kinjutsu, if Kakashi ever got around to writing it all down and submitting it to the Hokage for review. Six hours hiding in the Liar’s Palace and Kakashi had nearly collapsed in the bathroom, the backlash was so severe.

The sooner they reached Iwa, the better.

Kakashi wiped his face dry with the edge of his rough cotton shirt. Crouching down on the ground, he rummaged through the satchel and pulled out a thin bamboo tube; with a twist of his wrist he uncapped it, revealing several thin writing brushes and a vial of ink. A traveling writing case, suitable for any man on the road.

Kakashi pulled out a hair-thin brush and uncapped the vial of ink, sniffing at the potent mix of blood and chakra infused charcoal ink. Carefully, he dipped the brush and set about adding slight modifications to his forearm seal. The original was slipshod work and it made Kakashi almost ashamed to have it be seen on him. The tiny modifications he was adding released a false tracking signal to the master map the guardsman had inlaid on the desk, fading away into his skin after ten minutes.

More than enough time to get a little intel on Iwa and if he was lucky, their target.

Kakashi summoned strength for a simple genjutsu, one that allowed him to blend into the shadows and wrapped the satchel tightly around his hips, using the strap as a makeshift belt. Quietly, he slipped out of the bathroom and melted away into the darkness.

* * *

 

 

“Nii-san, are you alright? You look a little sick.”

Ichirou rubbed the back of his neck, slick with styling grease from his hair. “I’m fine, I think it’s just the air in here that’s getting to me.”

Ryou looked up at him with suspicious eyes. “You were in there for an awfully long time, you know.”

“Nature’s call,” Ichirou said, fiddling a little with the strap on his shoulder. “Why are you talking so much anyway? Little children should be seen, not heard.”

“Worst older brother--”

“Knock it off you two.” Riku sauntered over to the two of them, followed by a battered looking ninja dressed in dark cargo pants, a dirty brown vest and a crimson shirt with a single sleeve, just like the ninja they had met in the rock canyon. “Try and act your ages, we’ve got important company. This here is Sabu, he’ll be our guide to Iwagakure.”

Ichirou’s back instantly straightened and he bowed deeply, palms in front of his chest like his Mother had taught him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sabu-san. Thank you for graciously guiding us to the village.” Ryou followed a beat later, his greetings a quiet murmur.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sabu said, rolling his dark eyes. “Just keep out my way, no talking, no trying to discover the village’s hidden secrets, etcetera etcetera.”

“We’re only simple merchants,” Ichirou smiled. “How could we ever hurt such a strong village of shinobi?”

* * *

 

“A real featherbed,” Riku sighed, sinking onto the mattress and shucking off his sandals. “Bless this village.”

Ryou settled on the other side of the bed, trying not to look around everywhere and look like a country bumpkin. The entire building looked like a termite mound (something he had only ever seen pictures of in books), with small round windows and smooth curved walls that made the rooms seem more like burrows than real houses. There were two simple beds, a writing desk made of granite and an old television in the corner of the room.

“Even old man Ikku has a better TV than that,” Ryou commented lightly, toeing the smooth floor with the tip of his sandal.

“Iwa might be one of the most powerful shinobi villages, but they don’t have too many civilians in their village. They have to import a lot of the stuff that they can’t make because they don’t have enough people to, like TVs and ramen,” Riku said, fluffing up his pillow and settling down on it with a content sigh. “It’s expensive, so a lot of stuff they just keep using and reusing until they really need to buy ‘em.”

“And we’re here to take advantage of that,” Ryou said slowly, putting together the pieces in his head. “And that’s why Father was so excited to have the contract from the village?”

“Uncle Jiro beat out fifteen other cloth merchants,” Riku said, a touch smugly. “Iwa has money from doing so many missions and they like to have contracts out with people for years and years, it cuts down the price when they buy in bulk and it fosters good relationships. Uncle Jiro won a five year one on the condition that we travel here every summer.”

Ryou remembered the day Father and Jiro came back from their visit to the capital, clattering off the wagon and into the house in a rush of stamping feet and shouts. That night they had fresh tuna and Ichirou had brought back a new book on the seven wonders of Lightning Country; he was already reading it under the table while Father said grace for the sumptuous evening meal.

“We pull this off and we’ll be set for life, little Ryou-chan,” Riku said, reaching over from his side of the bed to ruffle Ryou’s hair. Ryou yelped and tried to fend off the attack but Riku was much bigger and stronger than him, his big arms circling around him. Ryou resigned himself to defeat.

“Hey, Ryou, Riku, can you come over to the bathroom for a second?”

The pressure on his arms lifted and Ryou matched Riku’s puzzled expression. Nii-san sounded-- a little off, for some reason. He slid off the bed, cousin Riku following him, and made his way over to the bathroom in the far corner of the room, a tiny sliver of light jutting out from the crack of the open door.

“What is it, Nii-san? Are you alright?”

“Just, come in for a second, both of you.”

Ichirou’s voice sounded different, rougher and much more tense. Had he hurt himself? Ryou swallowed and pushed open the door, half-expecting to see his brother collapsed on the floor in a pool of blood. Instead, he met the eye of a demon, spinning lazily in his brother’s face.

“ _Kai_ ,” Ichirou whispered and Ryou’s entire world fell apart.

* * *

 

“What the goddamned fucking shit was that?” Genma croaked, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Kakashi handed him a canteen of water, which he accepted, hand shaking a little.

“Genjutsu backlash,” Kakashi said, watching the other man’s Adam's apple bob as he greedily drank down the water. Tenzou was sitting on the tiled floor, leaning his head against wooden cabinet underneath the sink, brown hair plastered to his sweaty face.

“Raidou-san?”

“Puking in the bathroom in the other room. I released him while you two were indisposed.”

“Indisposed?” Genma shot Kakashi a dirty look, setting down the empty canteen on the edge of the sink with an audible thunk. “Damn near killed me is what it did. The first time we did it, I just felt a little queasy, nothing too bad. This time--” Genma shook his head, strands of hair falling out of the elegant plait hanging down his back. “This time, I thought I was gonna puke all my guts out.”

“I warned you all that the full effects haven’t been studied, I’ve never had it hold this long. Seems like the longer it takes, the harder it becomes to pull out your Liar’s Palace.” Kakashi shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It was something he’d come up with while practicing with Obito’s eye during the end of the war and later developed while mucking around with Mangekyo after Team Seven had split. The longest he’d ever had to use it before was an hour, maybe two, in order to infiltrate castles and mansions on the occasional mission. Never for something this complex and dangerous.

“It got the job done,” Tenzou said quietly from his place on the floor, his voice harsh and raspy. “We’re in Iwagakure now.”

Kakashi hunched his shoulders over and desperately wished that he had a mask back to hide his face. “I’ll go check on Raidou,” he said and walked out of the bathroom. The door to the adjoining room was only a feet over but it seemed to take an eternity. They were in _Iwa_ now-- Kakashi touched Obito’s eye which throbbing angrily, sharp spikes of pain lancing through his head.

(The first thing he had ever seen with this eye was Obito’s half-crushed face, his eye-socket hollow and bloody.)

Kakashi pulled open the door and met Raidou face to face, the other man’s hand reaching out for the doorknob.

“Good timing, chief,” Raidou said and Kakashi stepped to the side, letting him pass through the doorway and into the room.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got punched by Tsunade after getting caught peepin’ on the ladies,” Raidou said, shutting the door closed behind him and locking it with a twist of his fingers. “You?”

“Fine,” Kakashi said.

Raidou raised an eyebrow but didn’t make any comment on Kakashi’s health, which he was grudgingly grateful for. “I’ll go check on Genma and the rookie, sounds like they didn’t have too good of a time of it.”

Kakashi cocked an ear, Genma’s faint curses floating from behind the closed bathroom door and into the main room. The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Get the two of them here, we’re having a meeting in five.”

Raidou saluted, two fingers to his temple. “Aye aye, Captain Boss Man,” he said. Kakashi nodded back and moved over to the satchel he’d left on the writing desk, digging through it deftly and pulling out the writing case and the packet of persimmons wrapped in oilcloth and stamped with the mark of HANAJIRO GROCERS. He untied it to reveal a bundle of tightly wrapped chakra imbued scrolls.

He unrolled one on the table, uncapped the writing case and opened Obito’s eye. (The first man he’d ever killed with it was an Iwa nin.) With swift, even strokes Kakashi drew out the sprawling map imprinted onto his brain, the image flowing down smoothly from his mind, down his arm and onto the scroll. (The last mission Father went on was in Iwa.)

A few seconds later, he closed Obito’s eye and looked down at the detailed map sprawled all over the scroll, the bloody-red shimmer of the ink fading away to a normal black. “It nevers gets old, seeing that,” Raidou said over Kakashi’s shoulder.

“I’m a one-trick pony,” Kakashi said and drew a tiny vial of sand from the writing case and sprinkled it lightly over the drying ink. The chakra enhanced sand glowed a bright blue for a brief second and then faded; Kakashi carefully gathered up the scroll and poured the sand back into the vial. “Enjoy the show.”

“Sir, are you--” Raidou’s breath was hot against the back of neck. Kakashi fought the urge to grab the kunai hidden in the sole of his sandal. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Kakashi was quiet for a long moment. “Not really,” he said. “But neither are you.”

“Yeah,” Raidou breathed out. “Yeah, Danzou knew what he was doing, sending us here.”

Three veterans of the Third Shinobi War. Three veterans that had grown up in the shadow of war, taught to hate and fear Iwa. Three veterans who had lost family and friends to Iwagakure. Danzou was very, very clever.

Kakashi rolled up the scroll and turned around, moving the minute Raidou obligingly stepped out of the way. Genma and Tenzou scowled up at him from the floor, huddled in some blankets and sheets they had scrounged out of the linen closet. It looked even sillier considering the fact that they were sitting seiza, knees on the ground, hands clasped on their thighs. Kakashi settled himself down on the floor, cross-legged, and unrolled the map on the ground.

“I managed to look through the files in the outpost and caught a look at some of the maps and files they have there.” Kakashi pointed at the section labeled GU WARD with his index finger, right where the Main Street cut it into a neat half. “That’s where we are right now.”

“Ah, the good old bathroom trick,” Genma said with forced cheer. “So that’s what you were doing at the outpost.”

Kakashi started to smile and stopped, caught off-balance by the absence of his face-mask sliding against his skin. Without it, he’d have to be more careful about guarding his emotions. “This here is the Tsuchikage Tower, the armory, the mission control center.” Kakashi pointed at the center of the map, all clustered in the section clearly labeled KO WARD. “And here’s the main market we’re setting up our stall in for the next two weeks.” Kakashi pointed at KYU WARD, just a few streets over from the Tower.

“We have four weeks to accomplish our mission,” Kakashi said, making eye contact with each member of his team. “The target must be eliminated by that time, since our merchant permits expire at that point.”

“Is he even in the village?” Raidou asked, rocking on the balls of his feet next to Genma’s huddled form. “We made it all the way here but he could be out of the village on a long-term for all we know.”

“Oh, he’s here,” Kakashi said and smiled thinly. “When I was the outpost, I checked their logs and saw that Gari had been passing by with a team of genin. They were on a quick escort mission from the village to the border, just a few days ago.”

“A jounin-sensei? We’ll have to make sure the kids don’t get in the way,” Genma said, fingers wrapped tightly in the edge of a bedsheet. “They’ll be loose ends.”

Kakashi nodded sharply and tried not to think of his own kids waiting back home. “For the first week, were just going to be collecting intelligence. Set up the stall in the market, make contacts, interact with the locals. Figure out his pattern with his team: where he eats, where he sleeps. This is his home turf, he’ll be comfortable here. He’s going to make mistakes. We need to capitalize on that.”

“No more genjutsu,” Tenzou put in quietly, the shadows under his eyes a bruised purple. “We needed it to get here, but no more. We can accomplish the mission without it.”

Kakashi considered Tenzou’s tiny form across from him, all bundled up in white sheets, nothing but a tiny wisp of a face and big brown eyes. “I’ll take it under consideration,” he said and ignored how his throat tightened when Tenzou nodded back silently.

“Never thought I’d ever be this close to Iwa after the end of the war,” Genma said, tugging at a loose thread in his thick blanket. “Seven years, huh? Seems just like yesterday.”

“I don’t have to remind everyone that personal motives are not allowed to interfere with the parameters of the mission, do I?” Kakashi asked, looking Genma intently in the eyes.

“Of course not Captain,” Raidou said smoothly and thumped Genma’s back heartily. “Genma’s just being a nostalgic dick.”

“Yeah, just old Genma being crotchety at usual. Don’t mind me, sir.” Genma’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, a strange caricature of his normally easy going expression.

Kakashi took what he could get and ignored the stink of deceit emanating from his subordinates. “I’ll take first watch, everyone else get some rest while you can. It’s going to be a long month.”

* * *

 

 

Fugaku shuffled his notes on the budget for the Police Force, giving Aburame an absent nod as the other Clan Head passed by his seat. Danzou was probably going to argue over the operating budget for the Force again, dragging out the most minute details into an agony of discussion so mundane that Fugaku’s temples were throbbing already in anticipation. Every week he met with the Council and every week he poured rice wine to honor his ancestors and begged them to strike the old wart with lightning.

There was a quiet rush of scraping chairs as everyone settled into their respective seats, the Hokage at the head of the long rectangular table, flanked by his advisors Koharu and Homura. “We shall now begin the two thousand, five hundred and sixty second session of the meeting of the Great Council of Konohagakure,” Hokage-sama intoned solemnly and Fugaku withheld a sigh. And Mikoto wondered why his blood pressure was rising!

The Hokage finished the opening ceremonial words and Fugaku, with a resigned gaze, watched Danzou open his mouth.

“I would like to reintroduce bill 56AB concerning admission to the Academy.”

Fugaku drew in a sharp breath, feeling as if someone had just slipped a kunai between his ribs.

“Seconded,” Inuzuka said, insolently flashing her fangs at Fugaku.

“Hokage-sama,” Fugaku forced out with clenched teeth. “I was under the impression that the bill was blocked.”

“As a Councilman, I can re-sponsor a bill to be introduced to the Council,” Danzou cut in, his wretched voice a pain to endure. Fugaku drew in another ragged breath and fought the instinctive urge to let his eyes bleed red.

“I was under the impression,” Fugaku continued as if he hadn’t heard the man speak, “that this bill calls for an unfair admissions policy that discriminates against those with kekkei genkai, specifically-- specifically those with doujutsu.” _Specifically the Uchiha._

“I too, as well, harbor doubts about the validity of this bill,” Hiashi said, his voice a touch stronger than normal. In this, at least, they were united.

“Danzou has legitimate concerns,” Kotone, the old bat, said. Legitimate! A piece of paper with dog shit smeared all over it had more legitimacy than him. “How can we forget Setsuna Uchiha’s uprising against the Village? Not only were they all highly skilled shinobi but they also focused their attack on the Academy, with the help of the Uchiha studying there.”

“Madara was also known for his ability to manipulate the Nine Tailed Fox--”

“The Uchiha have proved themselves to be _innocent_ , what more do you--”

“Enough.”

In an instant, the room quieted, partly from the strength of the Hokage’s voice, but also from his immense aura which blanketed the room like a suffocating fog. Fugaku gripped his armrests and focused on controlling his breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“We shall table the matter and return to it on another day, when our tempers are cooler and we can discuss it without devolving into petty arguments.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” the room murmured as one.

Fugaku kept his mouth tightly shut.

* * *

 

“The Clan cannot stand such slights to its honor,” Elder Miyamoto said gravely. “Joining with the Village was supposed to have brought us prosperity but all the Village does is accuse us with wrongs we have never committed.”

“Uchiha Madara was right,” croaked another Elder. “We have become second to the Senju. We, who joined the Senju in creating the first Hidden Village, we who have built this Village into what it is-- is this how we are to be treated? Second to the Senju, ostracized and excluded because of our kekkei genkai, because of our power!”

“We must act! We must!” Miyamoto rumbled and was answered by a chorus of agreeing murmurs.

Fugaku heard the rustle of silk at his side and saw Itachi stand up, shaking the wrinkles out of his hakama. “What are you--”

“Elders, fellow clansmen, Father.” Itachi bowed deferentially, lower than was expected of the Clan heir. Fugaku felt his heart sink, half-hearing the surprised mutters of the clans members in the room and the elders’ harsh whispers.

“You speak of rising against the Village. A coup d’etat--”

“You speak out of place, young one,” Miyamoto said, setting his cup of rice wine down on his table with a solid thunk.

“When the Elders’ speak of the traitor Uchiha Madara in a positive light, this one grows concerned,” Itachi said, his deceptively smooth voice as sharp as a whip. “Your words call for a break with a village, to killing the Senju we have formed a century long covenant with. Have the elders calculated the cost of such talk? Much blood will be shed, with one clan against tens of others, no matter the fact that we have the Sharingan. Konoha is home of the Byakugan, the Inuzuka nose, the Aburame kikkai, the Nara’s Shadow Techniques, the Yamanaka’s mind control and the Akimichi’s body modification techniques, to name just a few. And that is just the lives of the Uchiha who will be lost-- what about our honor? Our dignity? Do you truly think that by lashing out against the village, we will gain honor? Dignity? The respect of others?”

Fugaku closed his eyes as the contempt in Itachi’s normally soft voice grew, gripping the edges of his cushion, his knuckles whitening.

“No. What the Village will see and what _I_ see is the pathetic attempt of a Clan to prove others wrong by kicking them in the shin. Are we children or are we shinobi who have helped found this village? We can do better than this, we can _be_ better than this. We can rise above these petty means and keep the Village together. We can gain respect through being good people and good ninja and good villagers. Whether we like it or not, we are the people of the Village Hidden in the Leaves.”

“Fugaku-sama, I commend you on raising such a naive child,” Elder Kakeru said, his dark eyes narrow. “It seems he still hasn’t learnt the meaning of strength as a shinobi.”

“On the contrary, Elder Kakeru, I think Itachi-kun knows every meaning,” Shisui cut in, slamming his hands on his table and rattling the bottle of rice wine. “Just because you’re too blinded by power and your own--”

“Enough,” Fugaku said and flared his chakra. The room instantly quieted and Itachi and Shisui settled back on their cushions again with mutinous looks. Fugaku restrained the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose; weakness was not allowed.

“We will have a discussion later,” Fugaku said quietly to his son and then raised his voice to address the entire room. “I apologize on behalf of my son,” he said and bowed. “I will, of course, take all of your advice and counsel to heart and think it over very deeply. Thank you.”

With that clear dismissal, Fugaku stood up from his cushion and swept out of the room, feeling every stare pierce his back.

Itachi followed him out of the room, his own small dark shadow fast on his heels. When they were far away enough from the room, he turned around, careful not to raise his voice.

“What were you thinking? You know how the Elders are and they are right in their own way. You dishonor me and your mother by displaying your arrogance and speaking out without a thought for custom or manners. You and Shisui!” Fugaku sighed and rubbed his temples.

“I apologize for causing you pain, Father, but I cannot just stand aside and watch the Clan dig itself its own grave. This is _madness_ \--”

“Madness is Danzou taking every chance to twist my words and step on the back of the Uchiha. Madness is the Hokage standing by and watching this happen. Madness is when the entire village points its fingers and thinks we killed the Yondaime Hokage and hundreds of shinobi. Madness is when they have locked us away in this village within a village, threatening to keep our children from the Academy. What am I supposed to _do_ , Itachi? Stand aside and watch my people suffer?” Fugaku drew in a ragged breath and clenched his right hand into a tight fist, holding it over his heart. “I am trying to make life better for you and Sasuke, so that when you too grow older and take my place, this will all just be a memory in the past. Listen to the elders and their wisdom, Itachi.” _Please_.

If Itachi heard his silent plea, he gave no sign of it. Instead, his beloved son, his best and brightest and his heir, bowed. “Yes, Father.”

Fugaku wondered why it felt like his own heart heart was breaking.

* * *

 

“The situation grows dangerous,” Danzou mused, his voice echoing in the dank underground air.

“As expected, Hatake has left the country, sir.”

Danzou looked down at the kneeling figure below him and tapped his cane of the ground. “Good. As strong as he is, he is predictable. A pity, he could have been as great as Sakumo at his peak. Still, he should have known better than to meddle where he isn’t wanted.”

“Yes, sir. Reports from the Uchiha compound have also arrived. It seems the situation is accelerating.”

“They’ve always been the impatient sort. Enact Executive Order Dark Horse, as planned. It’s time we dealt with this nuisance to the Village.”

“Yes, sir. And about the Heir, should we--?”

Danzou walked over to the spartan wooden desk and chair in the corner of the room, occupied only by a single metal lamp and a manila folder. “I’m told that Hatake is the one to nominate him for service?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have no use for fools like that. After this mission is fulfilled, I have another infiltration mission for you. Iwagakure, this time.” Danzou picked up the manila folder on the desk and handed it over to the kneeling figure. “I trust you’ll do well, Kabuto?”

“To the best of my ability, Danzou-sama,” Kabuto bowed, his glasses gleaming from reflected light.

“Good. Travel safely.”

Danzou turned off the lamplight and the room plunged into darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Sasuke had only ever seen the Hokage three times in his life: once, at cousin Keiko’s entrance ceremony for the Academy and the Hokage had sat in his great big chair, his craggy face smiling down at Keiko and her yearmates; once, when Sasuke was very, very small and Father had brought both him and Itachi to the Tower to deliver the paperwork that officially instated aniki as the Uchiha Heir; once, at the annual Memorial in the fall, when Father had finally deemed Sasuke old enough to sit with the members and listen to the Hokage read aloud the names of the dead.

When he saw the swirling robes of crimson and white glide past the gates of the compound for the fourth time of his life, Sasuke gasped in surprise. The Hokage was so short!

Aniki tugged gently at Sasuke’s hand. “Bow,” Itachi said in a low voice and Sasuke bowed, heart hammering away in his chest. The Hokage! In the compound! His thoughts chased themselves round and round inside his head like a dog chasing its tail. Sasuke snuck a glance carefully and saw, with an excited leap of his heart, a flash of bone-white mask and silver arm-guards. ANBU! Sasuke squeezed Itachi’s hand tightly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear how loudly his heart was pounding.

“Ahh, you must be Fugaku’s boys, yes?”

Itachi bowed even deeper, his hand tugging Sasuke down. “Yes, Hokage-sama.”

“You must have grown an inch since I last saw you, Uchiha-kun. And this must be Sasuke, your younger brother?”

Sasuke straightened up at the sound of his name. “Hokage-sama,” he said in his politest voice, like Aunt Riko had taught him, and bowed again.

The Hokage caught his chin with a gentle hand and Sasuke felt rough calluses slide against his skin. “You have your Mother’s eyes,” the Hokage said, in his deep rumbly voice. His face was very old and solemn, brown like a raisin left too long in the sun, and twice as wrinkled.

“Thank you,” Sasuke mumbled, unsure how to deal with the fact that the Hokage told him he had _girl_ eyes.

White flashed against dark skin as the Hokage laughed, deep and round and rough with smoke. “And your Father’s spirit. I see the best of the Uchiha clan in you, Uchiha Sasuke.”

Sasuke pressed against Itachi’s leg, the gentle strength of aniki’s hand giving him courage. “Thank you Hokage-sama,” he said again and smiled, forgetting that he had lost two teeth that morning and his subsequent vow to remain grim-faced and solemn until they grew back.

“We are most grateful for your presence Hokage-sama,” Itachi cut in smoothly, inclining his head again. “If you require any aid while in the compound…”

“As a matter of fact, I’m here to see Uzumaki Naruto,” the Hokage said. “I’ve been informed that Kakashi entrusted his care to your family, Uchiha-kun.”

Sasuke scrunched his nose, trying to think why the _Hokage_ would want to see Naruto-- and then guiltily remembered how they’d accidentally-on-purpose covered the Temple laundry in exploding ink tags. It was only a little bit of laundry and there was no way the Temple monks would have told the Hokage...would they?

“He’s not in any trouble,” the Hokage continued and Sasuke froze, trying very hard to make it seem like he wasn’t trying to hide behind aniki’s leg. “But I confess to missing our weekly engagements.”

“Naruto-kun’s helping Mother with the housework today,” Itachi said with a quiet smile, carefully maneuvering his feet so that Sasuke was now standing side by side with Itachi again, instead of behind. “If you would like, Hokage-sama, I could escort you. Sasuke, you remember the way to Aunt Riko’s home?”

Sasuke bit back a frown and crossed his arms over his chest, forgetting that one hand was still holding onto Itachi, so it was only his right arm that crossed his chest. “I go there all the time by all by myself when you’re not here,” he said scornfully. “I’m almost seven you know.”

“I know,” Itachi said and the Hokage gave Itachi one of _those_ looks that grown ups always gave each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. “You tell me so every day.” Sasuke squirmed and pulled his hand free, rubbing the sticky sweat on his trouser leg.

“I have to go to lessons,” Sasuke said very seriously. “So go help the Hokage, aniki.” He peered up at the craggy face, careful not to make direct eye contact, and marvelled at the great big hat the Hokage wore, big enough that it cast a shadow large enough to swallow Sasuke’s feet.

“I would be very grateful for your help, Uchiha-kun,” the Hokage said, inclining his head at the two of them. “And I thank you, Sasuke, for lending me the use of your brother today.”

“Aniki’s the best,” Sasuke nodded knowingly. “You’ll be very safe, Hokage-sama.”

“That’s enough, Sasuke,” Itachi said, fingers snaking out viper-quick and poking Sasuke right in the forehead. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere else to be?” Sasuke hissed and swiped at aniki’s hand, just a few seconds too late. “I’ll come back at three to pick you up, so I better hear good things from Riko-san.”

Sasuke made a face at Itachi and sketched out a quick respectful bow to the Hokage before running away just in time to dodge another stupid forehead-poke. “See you later ani--!” he shouted, waving backwards, and ran towards the rising sun. He saw the Hokage! And the Hokage talked to him face-to-face and called him by his name! Sasuke grinned and thought of the million different stories he could tell everyone at lunch today about the Hokage’s hat and his wrinkly raisin face and the mysterious ANBU that hovered at his shoulder, mask painted with bright red fangs.

 

 

* * *

 

“The tea is quite splendid, you know,” the Sandaime said peaceably, cradling a steaming celadon cup in his old and knotted hands. “Gold-leaf green tea from the Hua Ding province in Tea Country, if I’m not mistaken.”

Fugaku bowed deeply from the doorway, hair falling forward with the smooth motion. “Hokage-sama, you honor my family with your presence.”

“Sit, sit,” the Hokage said, setting the cup down with a gentle grace. “There’s no need to stand on formality, Fugaku-dono. Especially when I’m the one intruding.”

Fugaku made his way over to the low set table on the ground and settled himself on the cushion directly facing the Hokage, taking care to hide the ink splatters on his left hand. He’d been so surprised of the news of the Sandaime’s visit that he’d upset an entire inkwell and ruined the stack of paperwork he was working on.

“Tea?”

Fugaku started to shake his head and then caught the Hokage’s impenetrable gaze. “If it pleases you,” he said a little reluctantly and reached out for the teapot.

“No, no, let me,” the Sandaime said, batting away Fugaku’s hand with surprising strength. Fugaku watched in shocked silence as the Hokage poured out a cup of tea and picked out a selection of daifuku, deftly sliding over the tea and sweets to Fugaku’s side.

Tea, poured by the Hokage’s own hand! Fugaku could only mutely raise the cup to his lips and drink, breathing in a bittersweet clarity. It was delicious.

“Mikoto-san runs a very fine household,” the Sandaime said, nodding in approval. “The complementary nature of both the food and the porcelain is impeccably matched. I haven’t had tea this fine since my wife passed.”

“A great loss to our village,” Fugaku said automatically and drank some more tea. Tea that was poured by the Hokage. Was he trying to curry favor with the Uchiha? Was Danzou the one orchestrating this meeting? Fugaku wracked his mind, searching furiously for meaning and motivations, but could only think of the simple grace of the Hokage’s movements, the sweet airy fragrance of pressed flowers hovering in the air. The last time he’d been so close with the Hokage was-- was when the Yondaime still reigned, the two of them sharing bottomless cups of tea over shougi games, their two wives bent together and laughing, dark hair mixing with bright. Fugaku closed his eyes and tried to forget.

“We lost much that day,” the Hokage sighed, the sound coming from deep inside his chest. “Including Naruto’s family.”

“He’s doing very well here,” Fugaku said sharply, the Hokage’s words drawing him out of half-faded memories. “Hatake came to us and entrusted the boy to my care. I give him no reason to doubt his trust.”

“And so he is,” Sandaime-sama agreed serenely. “Naruto only has good things to say about his stay here.”

“As he should,” Fugaku said and drank to hide the frown tugging at his mouth. What exactly was the other man hinting at?

“I will not deny, it surprised me at first, that Kakashi should choose to come to your doorstep and not perhaps mine.” The Hokage’s eyes fluttered closed as he savored a bite of mochi flavored with ume. “But I begin to see his reasoning now.” The Hokage’s eyes opened and Fugaku was caught blind-sided by the immense sorrow in those hidden depths, still clear and bright after nearly a century of life.

“I am old and unfit for my post, Fugaku,” the Sandaime said, his voice growing rougher. “More suited to dandling grandchildren on my knee than overseeing this Village and I have used my exhaustion and age as an excuse to close my eyes to the growing disquiet.”

“Sandaime-sama--”

The Hokage shook his head, hat tipping to the side with the violent motion. “Things are changing, even more rapidly than I can guess, and I have been blind to it all. Willfully, perhaps. But blind all the same. Kakashi’s recent actions have shed light on-- well.” The Hokage’s mouth twisted harshly. “I trust you share some of my anxieties about Councilman Danzou.”

Fugaku’s grip tightened on his teacup, heat burning a blazing brand onto his palm. “Some,” he echoed, face carefully kept blank.

“He grows ever more bold and dangerous,” the Hokage said slowly, clasping his hands together with a sharp hum of chakra. “And I cannot even begin to fathom the depths of his machinations.” The Hokage raised his keen gaze, dark eyes peering at Fugaku’s own.

Fugaku tore his eyes away and looked down sightlessly at the cup in his hands. The slight tremor in his fingers betrayed itself in the rippling surface of the tea. “Why now?” he asked hoarsely. He thought of Bill 56AB, of Elder Miyamoto and Itachi’s grave face; he thought of his wife and little Sasuke, swept up by the tides of pride and war.

“I have heard of some disturbing rumors, Fugaku-dono,” the Hokage said, the tips of his fingers pressed together, tea now entirely abandoned.

“The Uchiha would never--” Fugaku began harshly, looking up and again was struck by the deep compassion he saw. He cleared his throat. “It is thinking like that which drives us even farther from the Village.”

“From the Village or from your seat in the Council?” the Hokage asked gently. “From the hearts of the people or from power and respect?”

Fugaku gave him a startled look.

“It’s true, power alienates. People fear what they cannot comprehend, what frightens them. Danzou is both frightened of and lusts for the power the Uchiha hold in their hands, in the history that permeates this clan. He is loyal to Konoha and Konoha only. To him, the Uchiha represent the greatest threat to harm the Village and the greatest weapon to protect it.” The Hokage gave Fugaku a wry smile, marking instantly the quick flash of surprise that he felt. “‘Know Thy Enemy as Thou Knowest Thyself’,” the Sandaime quoted, referencing the work of a war-philosopher from the Land of Iron some hundred years past. “I have tried, a little, to understand my old friend and enemy.”

The Hokage shook his head. “And so I am here, trying to understand one of the clans of my Village. Tell me, Fugaku, for it is my understanding that the Sharingan can see a bit of the future: what do you see in the future should it continue down this path?”

Fugaku swallowed, remembering the bloodthirst that rose in the hearts of his fellow clansmen, Itachi’s face, eyes bleeding red-and-black, and Miyamoto’s wizened face lined with grief, only son lost to the Third Great Shinobi War. “I fear there is no turning back,” he said, head bowed.

“There is always hope.” A hand reached out, the skin wrinkled and threaded with thick, dark-blue veins. “Will you not take my hand, Fugaku-dono?”

Fugaku held his breath, blood pounding away in his ears and chakra flooding the familiar channels threading his eyes, Sharingan a dull pulsing ache that begged to be freed. For a moment, just the span of a heartbeat, he let his eyes bleed into red, tomoe swirling as he saw the lines of future laid out before him. The Sandaime’s hand, so old and shaking in reality, shone like a burning blaze, lit by a chakra so bright that it brought tears to his eyes.

He saw the possibility of his own hand reaching out, read the faint tension in his muscles and saw his hand taking the Hokage’s; he saw his hand staying quiescent at his side and the Hokage’s drawing away, the old man’s arm betraying the tiny quivers of weakness, of doubt, of fear as he held out his hand and hoped that Fugaku would meet it; he saw his hand reaching out and slapping the Hokage’s away, read the chakra building up in his hand almost before he thought it, saw the Hokage bracing himself in the way his shoulders tensed, the way the chakra heart-fire in his chest flickered and waved.

With a shuddering gasp, Fugaku forced the chakra out of his eyes and the future melted away, leaving only the ever uncertainty of the present and a decision to be made.

“Sandaime-sama,” Fugaku bowed and clasped forearms with the Hokage, man to a man, as one would greet a fellow warrior.

“Fugaku-dono,” the Sandaime greeted in return, his grip firm and sure. There was a flutter of paper as the Hokage withdrew his hand and Fugaku found himself gripping a sheaf of papers, rolled up and tied with a ribbon bearing the Hokage’s personal seal.

“What--?”

“A beginning,” the Sandaime said, looking pleased while mysteriously pulling his smoking pipe out a voluminous sleeve. “You don’t mind if I?”

“No, no, of course not,” Fugaku said blankly as he unrolled the papers and an outline of a bill --several bills-- came into view. Plans of opening the Uchiha district to petitioning civilians; of opening the police force to include non-Uchiha; plans to hold exhibition matches between the Senju and Uchiha and festivals honoring the founding of the village; plans to incorporate a new Academy structure that marked entrance through merit and allowed no family name or special ability to help or hinder a student’s application.

“Opening the police force!” Fugaku had long since abandoned the idea of dignity and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sandaime-sama you cannot be serious. And opening the district-- the elders--”

“Compromise,” the Hokage said firmly, lighting his pipe with a snap of his fingers. “We have to start somewhere, young one.” He breathed out a long stream of smoke, chakra breath shaping it into fantastic beasts from legend. A dragon coiled around the stem of the pipes, curves undulating with power, before fading away into the air. “In exchange, I will take the Academy bill off the table permanently.”

Fugaku blinked. “How…?”

The Hokage smiled grimly. “I have a little power to me left. It should be enough to calm your elders and to set the rest of these in motion.”

“I--” Fugaku held the papers tightly in hand, fragile rice paper starting to tear and crumple in his trembling grasp. “I beg a little time to think about all of this, Hokage-sama.”

“Decide quickly,” the Sandaime said, dark eyes thoughtful. “We do not have much time left at our disposal before Danzou’s next act.”

Fugaku held his breath and silenced the quiet, insidious voice in the back of his head that wondered, if in fact they weren’t too late after all.

 

 

* * *

 

Hiroki clattered down the stairs winding around the small, two storey house, door slamming shut behind him. With a deft hand, he juggled a sack of pork buns and several canteens of watered-down wine he’d filched from Dad’s secret cabinet of booze in the cellar that Dad _thought_ he didn’t know about.

“Don’t slam the goddamn door, Hiro-kun!” his mother roared from inside the house and Hiroki could almost see the mop she wielded in her hands like the naginata she went to war with nearly fifteen years ago, before she had him and Minako-neesan and married Dad three months pregnant with little Kenji-chan.

“I didn’t slam it!” Hiroki bellowed back, sturdy ninja sandals slapping against stone steps.

“Are you getting fresh with me boy?” The walls shivered as Hiroki’s mother shouted, her voice echoing with power.

“Never,” Hiroki shouted back and vaulted down the last few stairs, stone molding and rippling where he landed with a cheerful grin. “I’ll be back in time for dinner!”

The weatherman had forecast a bright day, with a clean kind of heat that cut to the bone and killed the unprepared. Just another summer day in Iwa. Hiroki tied the canteens to his belt and slung the pork buns over his shoulder, whistling and waving at the occasional neighbor he passed by. He was tall for his age, growth spurt well underway with none of the lean awkwardness that marked so many other boys. He was built like his mother, as solid as an earth wall and had the quick grin of his father, who wielded an ink brush just as well as his wife did a knife.

It was only a few minutes before he entered the market square and he brightened, hailing Ryou with a wild whoop. “Oi, where’s my bookbound idiot of a friend!”

Ryou popped his head out of the Watanabe tent pitched in the corner of the market square, dark eyes brightening as he caught sight of Hiroki’s face. The silk scarves draped over the entrance of the tent fluttered at Ryou waved his arm enthusiastically. “Takahashi!”

Hiroki cut across the square (more of a wobbly egg-shaped circle, but everyone called it the square so the square it was) in three easy strides and pounded Ryou on the back enthusiastically, canteens thumping solidly against his hip. “Ryou, you sneaky conniving little bastard. Are the rumors true that you made out with the hedgewitch’s girl?”

Ryou wheezed, waving his hands up in surrender. “You’re gonna break me in half, Takahashi.”

Hiroki rubbed the back of his sheepishly. Sometimes he forgot that Ryou was actually a civilian instead of a ninja like him. But Ryou looked well enough, if a little bruised and winded. “Well?” he demanded. “Did you?”

Ryou flushed a deep red and ducked back into the tent. Hiroki followed him, bowing once in front of the entrance and to the two faced profile of a god hanging from a peg driven into a tentpole. Ryou had explained that he was a minor god back home in Lightning Country, who guarded all entrances and exits, whose two heads looked to both the future and the past. Hiroki figured that it couldn’t help honoring a god, even a foreign one, and always paid his respects when visiting his friend.

The tent was larger than expected, wide and long and airy, light filtering through the strong canvas and illuminating the wondrous fabrics hanging from the walls. Silk, muslin, cotton, taffeta, cambric, even a bolt of silk patterned with chakra-fire. Ryou’s cousin, Riku-san, had explained that it was made by highly skilled weavers trained to use their chakra, weaving chakra strings in with silk to create a hidden pattern that could only be revealed with a spark of chakra, illuminating the secret design for a single, heart-breaking instant.

They traveled to the back, where a low table already sat ready with a steaming pot of tea and rice crackers, Ryou’s older brother Ichirou napping in one of the cushions with a book planted over his face.

Once they were properly settled in, Hiroki unslung the sack from his shoulder and handed it off to Ryou, who nodded appreciatively. The canteens of wine, he casually slid under the table; booze, Hiroki thought, was best enjoyed with an air of secrecy.

“Well?”

Ryou busied himself with pouring out the tea, cheeks still a dull red. “I just walked her home,” he muttered. “It was late and she was all alone so--” His shoulder jerked awkwardly and he nearly spilled boiling hot tea all over his lap. Ryou was two years his elder, but he was quiet and a little awkward, always caught up in his books or stoically putting up with Ichirou’s teasing. Hiroki laughed, delighted with Ryou’s good fortune.

“She kissed you?”

“Just on the cheek,” Ryou ducked his head, but Hiroki could see the small flicker of a smile that Ryou tried to hide.

“You sly fox,” Hiroki grinned and bit into a pork bun with the hunger of a fourteen year old boy’s appetite. “You’ve only been mooning after her all bleeding month.”

“I haven’t,” Ryou protested, digging into the pork buns after a brief prayer to his gods. “She’s-- she’s--”

“Hot,” Hiroki nodded sagely. “And with a rack to make even the Legendary Sucker look tiny.”

Ryou flushed even brighter. “Takahashi Hiroki! I was going to say she was nice,” he said a little stiffly.

“She is very nice,” Hiroki winked, blowing on his fourth pork bun. “Veeerrry nice.”

“Everything you say about her is going to be useless and crass so I’m going to ignore you,” Ryou said, making the stern scary face that had frightened all the little children in the market square and one of them had to be taken home to change his pants for clean ones.

“Sure, sure,” Hiroki said unfazed. “You still up for the trip to the stone forest? I want that pair of gloves you’re wagering that it doesn’t exist.”

Ryou’s face tightened and he looked down at his cup of tea, steam slowly rising from the cup. Hiroki hadn’t the faintest idea how the Watanabes could tolerate tea like that in this sort of weather, but that was Lightning folk for you. They were all a little touched in the head. “We’re leaving next week,” Ryou said in a quiet voice. “Our commission’s almost up and it’s time for us to go home.”

The half-chewed pork bun became dust in his mouth. “But I thought you were applying for an extension, just a little more time--”

Ryou shook his head. “It’s been denied. We’re leaving in a few days, after we finish up business and pack everything up.”

“But--” Hiroki swallowed, the food going down like a lump of stone. For all that they had only known each other for a few weeks, they were friends-- close friends, if Hiroki admitted it to himself. In between missions, they had talked and played and Hiroki had shown his friend the hidden secrets of the Village, taking pride in the wonder in his friend’s face.

“You’ll come back next year, right?”

Ryou gave him a small smile. “Yes, I think so. We always honor our contracts.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hiroki said firmly. “We’ll make the best of it before you go and then you’ll come back next year and we’ll see each other again.”

“Next year,” Ryou echoed and looked away, drinking that infernally hot tea.

“I don’t have a mission until the day after tomorrow,” Hiroki said doggedly. “We’ll go see the stone forests and get drunk and do all the things we planned to do, just-- just all in a day.”

Ryou snorted. “Do you want to kill us both with exhaustion?”

“No, no this is the best idea!” Hiroki jumped up, scattering his plate of food onto the ground, and nearly banged his head on an overhead tent pole. “I’m a ninja, I won’t get tired, and I can carry you on my back, you’re tiny and don’t even weigh all that much.”

“I just haven’t had my growth spurt yet,” Ryou said a little darkly.

“So you’re up for it!”

Ryou gave him a long suffering sigh. “Alright, we’ll do it. But only if Riku-kun and Nii-san allows for it.”

“Of course I will, brat,” Ichirou’s voice floated up lazily from the floor and Hiroki flinched and sat back down immediately. He’d forgotten that Ryou’s older brother was sleeping on the cushion in the corner, face still hidden by an open book splayed facedown across his nose.

“Sorry Nii-san,” Ryou mumbled. “Did we wake you?”

“Only a little bit,” Ichirou said, his voice drier than the heat outside. “But to answer your previous question, yes, of course.” With a rustle of silk, Ichirou rose up from the nest of cushions he had been resting in, dark hair rising up in messy spikes; Hiroki could see why he used the gel if it normally looked like _that_. He still held the book up to his face, hiding his mouth and nose.

“Riku and I are more than capable of running a business without a sixteen year old brat’s interference.”

“Nii-san!” Ryou said indignantly and punched Ichirou in the shoulder.

“Go have your fun, brat. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Ichirou tilted his head, one hand holding the book up, the other reaching out for a chopstick. With a quick flash, he had a pork bun pierced on one end before Hiroki could blink.

“Don’t you have training tomorrow?” Ryou asked, distracting Hiroki.

“Nah, I can beg off for this,” Hiroki said casually, knowing that Gari-sensei would flay him alive and probably drag him by his balls, skin-less, to his mother to face his true punishment. It was worth it, to have another day with his friend.

“It’s settled then,” Ichirou said and put down the empty chopstick. He’d somehow made the pork bun disappear without ever moving the book or even appearing to chew. “You boys have your fun.” He flopped back into his cushion and went back to napping.

“Your brother’s so weird,” Hiroki observed, not even bothering to lower his voice.

“He is,” Ryou said, scrubbing his nose, embarrassed. “He’s normally not so--”

“Lightning Country,” Hiroki shook his head. He caught the bells tolling in the distance and counted them, as automatic to him as breathing. Fourteen long deep tolls and three short ones-- Hiroki jumped up again.

“Oh shit, Gari-sensei’s gonna _kill_ me, I’m late for training--”

Ryou grinned up at him. “You better get going and save yourself. We have lots to do tomorrow.”

Shit shit shit shit-- “We’ll meet at the cave tomorrow at seven bells, alright?” Sensei was going to make him do that stupid crane dance, gah, he hated that stupid limb-contorting pain that Gari-sensei called _exercise_. More like torture.

“Seven bells,” Ryou nodded back. “Go!”

Hiroki went, leaving a trail of swirling dust in his wake.

Tenzou picked up the food scattered on the ground, brushed the dust off of them and set them back on the plate. He found the canteens and sniffed them with a wrinkled nose.

“Kenichi would want some of that,” Kakashi said in a drowsy voice.

“You!” Tenzou hissed and picked his way over to Kakashi’s body. “You almost broke cover! The book and the chopstick and the hair!” Kakashi’s right eye popped open. “Senpai,” Tenzou added belatedly.

“Sorry, sorry, habit,” Kakashi said and closed his eye. “Besides, it doesn’t even matter anymore, not with all the work you’ve done.”

“I suppose not,” Tenzou said, a little mollified, and he sat down, sitting in proper seiza this time instead of cross-legged like a Lightning Country native. “Takahashi sees what he wants to and not what he really does.”

“Are you ready for it tomorrow?”

“Of course I am, we’ve only been preparing all this time--”

“Are you really?” Kakashi’s quiet voice cut like steel and Tenzou looked away, intently studying the beautiful and intricate patterns of the carpet laying on the floor.

“He’s a nice boy,” Kakashi said.

“He is.”

“Would that there had been any other way,” Kakashi said, voice muffled by the thick pages of the book on his face. “I would have spared you this.”

“It's my choice!” Tenzou said sharply. “My choice,” he said again, knuckles whitening.

“So it is,” Kakashi agreed and the two of them fell into silence, thinking of what tomorrow might bring them.

 

 

* * *

 

There was never any serious threat. Two jounin and two tokubetsu jounin against a genin who walked in expecting a friend’s embrace and instead received a knife to his throat and the wrathful gaze of a demon.

“Serum,” Kakashi said and Genma nodded, kit already out and glass vial in his hand. Green chakra shimmered in his hands as he pressed them against Takahashi Hiroki’s left humerus, slowly injecting a full dose of truth serum. Sweat beaded on Kakashi’s forehead as he held the genjutsu together, gently washing the pain away with a sweet numbness that left Hiroki’s mouth slack, drool slowly dripping onto the front of his shirt. Tenzou looked away, mouth twisting.

Kakashi waited a full five minutes for the serum to take effect before slowly drawing the genjutsu away, enough so that the child could control his mouth again, restoring a faint amount of mental acuity.

“Takahashi Hiroki, Genin, ID Number 1097364,” Kakashi commanded and even reduced to simple sentences, Hiroki’s back straightened and he attempted an awkward salute.

“Sir,” Hiroki said dreamily, eyes unfocused.

“Show me the seal that Gari placed on you.”

Slowly, with clumsy hands, Hiroki unbutton his shirt and pulled it off, pressing a hand against his breast. “Here,” he said, words coming out syrupy slow. “Sensei said only to use in times of danger…”

With the eye of the Sharingan, he could see the chakra-ink tattooed onto Hiroki’s chest, resting quiet and dormant without the trigger. “Brush,” Kakashi said tersely and Raidou handed over the inkwell, mixed with Hiroki’s blood and a brush made of Hiroki’s hair.

Carefully, with feather-soft movements, Kakashi altered the seal. It was magnificent work, no doubt the creation of a seal-master. The fluid grace of the characters, the strength and love imbued in them. Gari must love his students very much, Kakashi noted distantly. It was slow-going, with Kakashi stopping every few minutes to let each brushstroke dry, carefully monitoring the activity of the seal. It stayed quiet, accepting each alteration with hardly a quiver.

Kakashi leaned back on his heels and handed the brush off to Raidou. “Is everyone ready?”

His soldiers nodded.

Carefully, ever so carefully, Kakashi drew back his control over the boy, genjutsu slipping away inch by precarious inch. “Takahashi Hiroki, activate your seal.”

Hiroki smiled, sweet as a child. “Yes, sir.” He pressed his hand against it and the seal flared bright red, singing with purpose.

Kakashi felt the matching flare of chakra in the distance, roaring bright and angry. Gari was coming.

 

 

* * *

 

The tomatoes split open evenly, revealing beautiful rows of greenish seeds, coated in jelly. Mikoto smiled as she slid the pile of sliced tomatoes into a bowl and moved towards the stove, checking the simmering pot of stock. Tomato salad and udon for her two little boys, who no doubt would be hungry after a long day of being six year old boys. Mikoto unwrapped the plastic film around the box of dango she’d bought and set it to the side. And for her biggest little boy, his favorite dessert.

Mikoto smiled gently. It was good to have so many faces around the table again.

She took a step towards the counter and felt the air around her twist and bend-- within an instant she had the kitchen knife against the intruder’s throat, pressed gently against his pulsing carotid. One movement and he would cut himself, bleeding out in an instant on her kitchen floor. Mikoto blinked at the sight of curly black hair and wide red eyes, tomoe spinning.

“Shisui-kun?”

“Aunt Mikoto--” Shisui flushed and Mikoto drew back her knife instantly. “My apologies for my rudeness but--”

Mikoto set her knife on the countertop and accepted his apology with a graceful nod of her head. “What is it, Shisui-kun?”

“It’s Sasuke,” Shisui said, white-lipped. “He’s gone missing.”

 

 

* * *

 

Hiroki sat down in the middle of the cave, shirt still unbuttoned. He blinked slowly, willing himself to stay awake. He couldn’t go to sleep, he had to wait for Ryou. Hiroki smiled, head lolling to the side. They were going to have adventures today before Ryou went away forever and ever to Lightning Country and then they would have to wait a whole year to play again. The rock was cold. Hiroki patted it gently. Rocks were his friends. They would play together until Ryou came back.

There was an explosion and rocks flew everywhere and there was lots of smoke. Hiroki watched this all, wondering if it was Ryou coming for him.

“Hiroki! Hiroki damn it, answer me!”

Hiroki smiled. No, it was Gari-sensei and he was making the rocks explode again. Was it time to be training? No, he was waiting for Ryou, not training.

“Hiroki!”

Gari-sensei tore through the clouds of smoke, rocks vibrating around him, shaking and growing smaller and smaller and turning into littler rocks.

“Gari-sensei,” Hiroki said and smiled up at him.

“Heavens above, you’re--” Gari-sensei stopped short and he bent down, his dark eyes staring very very very hard at Hiroki. “What have they done to you?”

“I’m waiting,” Hiroki said patiently.

“Heaven have mercy,” Gari-sensei said in his deep voice. “For I will not.” And then he gathered Hiroki up in his arms, like Hiroki weighed nothing at all. And then the world exploded again, but this time Hiroki could not keep his eyes open and the darkness washed over him, while he waited for Ryou.

 

 

* * *

 

The target had taken the bait.

Kakashi flared his chakra and Raidou set off the exploding bombs. It was nothing but a distraction-- Gari was more than enough a competent ninja to easily evade the exploding tags, but it was enough to put him off-guard, especially with the burden he now carried.

Kakashi waited, tracking the wake of chakra Gari left as fled underground, feeling the roiling rage pulse beneath the ground, a twisted version of the hell some civilians preached about in the outskirts of Fire Country. It was only seconds but Kakashi felt time stretched to the point of breaking, watching, waiting, listening. They only had so long before the Village started sending people over to investigate, wondering at the amount of chakra being expended in one of the training grounds.

There was no sign, only the sudden explosion of dust and shattered earth, spewing up from the ground in a geyser of rage, instantly filling the clearing with a chakra-enhanced smoke that refused to clear. It was begun.

Kakashi unsheathed his ninjato and began the hunt. Gari had already cloaked his and the boy’s chakra but they had planned for that.

“Quadrant 5C,” Tenzou radioed in from his perch high up in the mountainous crag that bordered the training ground, the same one that Hiroki once waited for Ryou in. “I can feel my tag on Ta-- the bait there.”

Kakashi clicked back in acknowledgement and made his way, senses stretched to the limit. Quadrant 5C-- that was near the base of the crag. Kakashi ghosted his way over, ninjato at the ready and then felt the sudden ache in his teeth, the shiver down his back as chakra scraped against chakra

“Tiger and Wolf have engaged the target,” Tenzou radioed in tersely.

Kakashi cursed and sped up, using a touch of wind chakra to clear the smoke ahead of him, just in time to catch a glimpse of Raidou skidding away into the dirt, unmarked armor completely obliterated in the chest. Genma caught the brunt of Raidou’s fall, head snapping back to hit the ground. Kakashi could see the white bone of Raidou’s ribs and his breath caught in his throat.

There was a tale they told during the war, shared in the trenches over games of poker, betting condoms and pieces of hard candy. The Council had once sent an entire battalion of men over to the border with Grass to deal with the Iwa soldiers stationed there. For weeks, the war raged on, but neither side budged an inch. A stalemate.

Then, Gari came.

The only thing left was their armor, shattered and blown to pieces.

Kakashi’s mouth twisted into a silent howl and he vaulted into the fight, ninjato screaming with chakra. Gari stood with his back to him, planted like a tree over a dome of smooth earth, chest heaving, sleeves in tatters all the way up to his shoulders.

“Who’s next?!” Gari shouted, blood dripping from his fists. “Who dares to cross me and my student?”

Kakashi raised his blade and let it speak for him. Rippling with pure white chakra, it cut the air with the shriek of a thousand dying birds, bringing Gari’s attention straight on him. Behind him, he could feel Genma crawling snake-like on the ground, dragging Raidou away with him. Gari twisted towards him and breathed in sharply.

“The White Fang--!”

Gari’s moment of hesitation bought just enough time for Kakashi to dive in, Obito’s eye snapped wide open and reading the lines of the future, his blade but a scalpel in his hands. A swift cut and Kakashi reeled away just in time, as an explosion of air cut right above his head and hit the crag with a tremendous crushing noise, scattering shattered stone and dust everywhere.

Kakashi cooly flicked his blade, blood spattering onto the ground.

“Tiger’s critical,” Genma radioed in, voice staticky. “Looking at compromised c-spine, liver laceration, abdomen’s already distended, and a developing pneumothorax from broken ribs.”

Gari staggered, left hamstring neatly sliced through and cauterized with burning hot chakra, the tang of ozone heavy in the air.

“Heal as much as you can, you’re not coming back here,” Kakashi spoke quickly, in clipped tones. “Cat, I’m calling you down.”

Genma and Tenzou both clicked their acknowledgements and Kakashi raised his blade again, chakra humming in his blade. Too long, too much and it would shatter in half; ANBU-issue steel wasn’t meant to channel chakra in such a way and for so long. Kakashi adjusted his stance. And if it all went according to plan, he wouldn’t have to.

“Konoha,” Gari growled, chakra pulsing wildly in his limbs. “I should have known you rat-faced maggot fuckers were behind all of this.”

Kakashi tilted his head, evaluating the target. Just one more, one more and then--

Tenzou bore down from the heavens like a figure from legend, cloak fluttering in the wind, face glowing with the light of chakra pulsing in his hands. When he landed, earth roiled and rippled in waves instead of cracking and Gari snarled, hand already drawn back for a finishing blow. He was frighteningly quick, air already exploding with pent-up energy.

Kakashi silently blessed Tenzou for the distraction and flickered over to the dome, blade singing for blood, close enough that he could see Gari’s sweating face imprinted in Obito’s eye--

It was just a touch, just a gentle tap of Gari’s hand and Kakashi felt stars exploding behind his eyes, blue dots exploding and dying with every ragged breath. Kakashi staggered back, left leg unable to bear weight any longer, not when bone was shattered and cracked beyond recognition.

“A leg for a leg, White Fang,” Gari smiled, teeth white against blood.

Steel sank into earth as Kakashi used it to prop himself up, fuzzy blue dots scattered across his vision, pain and chakra exhaustion threatening to bring him to his knees. Tenzou howled in fury behind a shield of splintering trees, as it was slowly eaten away by Gari’s tremendous waves of explosive chakra from his outstretched arm and slowly replaced by Tenzou’s faltering strength.

“I’m not the White Fang,” Kakashi spat and drove the sword all the way into the earth, lightning chakra screaming as he cut deep into the earthen dome the two of them stood on, revealing Hiroki’s peacefully sleeping face. His blade cut into earth like a hot knife in butter and Kakashi split the dome in half, earth crumbling into dust as the chakra working that held it together was sliced in half.

Gari screamed and dove at Hiroki, but he was a moment too late, the chakra attack against Tenzou holding him back just long enough.

Kakashi was already there, blade tilted against Hiroki’s neck, ready to slice through the carotid.

“I’ll kill you,” Gari whispered, face white beneath his deep tan. His hands trembled and Kakashi marked the slow, sluggish movements Gari made.

“Not before I kill the boy,” Kakashi said hoarsely.

“What do you want?”

Kakashi closed Obito’s eye. He couldn’t have him see this-- not this, ever.

“Your life in exchange for the boy,” Kakashi jerked his head, feeling Tenzou move to position himself behind Gari’s back, blade at the ready. He could barely feel the kid’s chakra, a guttering candle in the winter wind.

There was a long silence as Gari considered it, green eyes unreadable as he took in Hiroki’s sleeping face. “I’ll take my chances,” he said and raised his arm, chakra building up, air boiling with fire and rage and--

Gari gasped and dropped his arm, instead clutching at his chest. His skin went grey and the chakra faded away into the dust.

“What-- what did you-- how--”

With the point of his blade, Kakashi carefully pushed Hiroki’s unbuttoned shirt to the side, revealing the pulsing red mark of Gari’s seal on Hiroki’s chest. It beat in time to Hiroki’s heart, color growing and fading in perfect rhythm, like a living thing.

“His mark calls to yours, drawing you closer and closer to him.”

Gari gasped for breath, sweat dripping off of him in buckets, both hands now pressed against the seal in his chest.

“I made it so that it called at your chakra, pulling more and more as time went on, from your seal to his. Your own lack of regard for your reserves--” Kakashi shrugged with one shoulder. “That, you can only blame yourself.”

Gari looked down at his student, chest straining to breathe. “Hiroki--”

Sharingan closed, pain dulling his reflexes, Kakashi was too slow. Gari had activated his kekkei genkai for the very last time, pulling at every last bit of chakra inside of him, condemning himself to death as he pulled his arm back, sorrow etched onto every line of his body.

“Let us die together,” Gari wept and his arm moved forward.

Kakashi could only watch, as the air exploded outwards, smoke and fire headed straight towards him.

And stopped.

A keen silver blade sprouted from Gari’s throat and slashed sideways, spraying Kakashi with bright red blood, hot and tasting of copper. “Sorry, but I can’t let you you do that,” Tenzou panted, crouched on the ground, bloody sword raised in the air.

“Tenzou--”

Tenzou gave him a wobbly grin and toppled backwards onto the ground, legs giving out from under him.

“Since I saved the day, can I pass out now?” Tenzou’s voice was soft and paper-thin.

Kakashi leaned back on his sword and gave him a rough, hacking laugh that couldn’t even really be called a laugh at all. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who stuck by this dumb story: thank you. I read each and every one of your reviews (though I haven't responded to a bit- sorry! I'll get on that!) and they kept me going. I thought about leaving it where it was and letting it sit as a cliffhanger forever, but people kept sending me these wonderful, amazing comments that let me know how much they cared and it shocked me, to know that people would read and think and care about this dumb little idea I had, that grew into something that I could never have imagined. So this chapter is for you all, who kept going for me, when I had given up. Chapter 7 is here because of all of you. And it's 7k+, so there's a bit to read.
> 
> I will be doing an exhaustive grammar/plot nitpick after this, because the glut of mistakes in here is horrendous and I flinch every time I reread the older chapters.  
> tl;dr
> 
> Thank you.


	8. Chapter 8

It came in the middle of the night, borne by a fresh-faced genin who’d been paid fifty ryou by a man in a mask to deliver it straight to Uchiha Fugaku, no questions asked.

Fugaku opened it up with shaking hands, tomoe of his Sharingan spinning as he checked for tags, seal-marks, chakra signatures-- any hint or clue at all. There was nothing, only plain string and brown paper covering a plain white plastic box with an ordinary containment seal. It was strangely cold.

“Father, are you sure--”

Fugaku silenced Itachi with a heavy wave of his hand. Mikoto hovered by the doorway, kunai held expertly in one hand and chakra gathering in the other. None of them slept easily now.

With strangely calm hands, he broke the containment seal with a swipe of his thumb. The box hissed and cool mist rose from the edges of the lid that were revealed in the absence of a working seal.

Three pairs of swirling red eyes tracked the movement of the fading fog, burning the impermanence into unforgettable memory. Only water vapor with a slight hint of chakra, too faint to be anything but a brief flicker of blue and then nothing.

Fugaku opened the box.

The Sharingan cut straight through the sudden rush of cold mist and revealed the lump of flesh lying on a bed of ice, white and dotted with clumps of congealed blood. There was a dull thud and Fugaku looked up, Mikoto’s ghostly pale face etched into his vision. For as long as he lives, Fugaku will always remember the look on her face, the little ‘o’ of her mouth, the kunai buried to the hilt in the floor, the faint fluttering beat of her heart pulsing in the hollow of her throat.

“That’s Sasuke’s ear,” Itachi whispered, horrified.

His hands were no longer calm. They were shaking now, trembling violently like leaves shuddering in face of a vengeful wind. He picked out the little placard placed next to-- next to-- Fugaku shuddered, mind refusing to comprehend.

It was cheap rice-paper, sold in stationery shops, a penny for a hundred sheets. Fugaku held it up to the light, paper shaking so badly he could hardly read what was on it. Itachi’s hand braced his arm, forcing it to steady.

The ink was a dull, rusty brown-- the color of dried blood, Fugaku slowly realized. There was only a single character, written with a steady hand, brush strokes clean and precise.

_yield_

 

* * *

 

There was only the silence, cold and quiet and as heavy as Kaka-nii’s flak vest, swallowing him up with its emptiness. Naruto wanted to break it, wanted to paint the walls of the room a bright, loud orange, scream and shout and ruin the silence and laugh and leave the room and play with Ryou-chan and Sasuke and Sakura.

Instead he stayed in the corner of the room, watching the painted pictures on the walls glow and fade, black flashing into blue and back to black again.

An old woman sat in front of the rice doors, white head bent over her knitting, needles flashing like fish scales in her hands. She had walked into the room with him, her bony hands strong as she shoved him into the room and lit up the painted words on the wall with her catra, like Kakashi-nii-san had shown him once, but normally the painted words in the apartment only lit up when Naruto wanted to come inside and he had to unlock the door with his hand on the special picture.

“I want to pee,” Naruto said loudly, just because, even though he didn’t really need to at all.

“Hush, demon brat,” the old fat granny said, not even looking up from her stupid knitting.

She was just like the rest of the grown ups, calling him mean names and glaring at him and Naruto wanted to scream and scream and make her see that he was Uzumaki Naruto, the greatest prankster in the world and Kakashi-nii-san’s younger brother!

“Is Kakashi-nii-san back yet?” Naruto demanded, heels drumming on the floor, just to make some noise.

“Boy, the Hatake should be the least of your concerns right now,” the old granny snorted, voice old and croaky and sounding like it had come straight from the fairytales about old witches living in the forest.

“I don’t like you,” Naruto said and slammed his foot down extra hard and didn’t even make a face even though it hurt a lot. “I want Shisui back again instead of you.” At least Shisui had talked and played with Naruto and the two of them had drawn pictures together of Naruto’s super cool Hokage outfit that he was gonna wear when he was a super S-ranked ninja. But Naruto could see how tired Shisui-kun was, with great dark smudges under his eyes and his face so pale and white, even for an Uchiha (Naruto accounted himself a regular Uchiha expert by now, having lived with them for weeks and weeks and weeks. Uchiha were normally rice-paper-pale and when they were in the sun, none of them ever got brown like Naruto but a blotchy shiny red that peeled and then went straight back to being white. Sasuke’s family, Naruto thought, was kind of weird.).

Once, Naruto had asked him about the search going on outside and Shisui had only smiled a smile that wasn’t really one at all, and held Naruto close to his chest, so tightly that Naruto felt like he was going to burst. He didn’t complain and only listened as Shisui said that they were trying very hard and if Naruto could just be a little more patient, he would only have to stay hidden away like this for a only a little bit longer, so he wouldn’t go missing like Sasuke--

Sasuke!

Naruto curled up into a ball, knees tucked in close to his chest, and put his head down. He’d been waiting for so long, first for Kakashi-nii-san to come back and now Sasuke was gone and Naruto was stuck inside this stupid tiny room with the glowing pictures and the old fat lady and he wouldn’t cry, he was a big kid now and big kids didn’t cry--

“Tch,” the old woman said and she put down her knitting for the first time since she’d walked into the room and hobbled over to Naruto, back bent and curved like an ancient tree. She produced a clean white hanky from the depths of her kimono and scrubbed Naruto’s face roughly.

“Blow, little brat,” she commanded, holding it over Naruto’s nose and Naruto blew so loudly that he honked like a goose. He giggled and the old woman sniffed, putting the dirty hanky away.

“We’ll find him,” the old granny said and she sat down all proper like Fugaku-san made them sit for meal times. “And Hatake will come back for you.”

“But how do you know for sure?” Naruto asked, looking down at his socks. They were his favorite, with little green frogs dancing all over the orange background. Kakashi-nii-san had gotten them for him when they went on the big shopping trip after he’d told Naruto that they were going to be living together.

“Because I am very old and I know many things,” old granny said, wrinkly prune lips pressed together. “And I also know that it is past time for you to do your hiragana homework.”

“Pfffbbbbbtttt,” Naruto blew air out from his pursed lips, puffed up cheeks slowly deflating. “I hate homework,” he muttered.

The old granny gave him a mean look and Naruto grumbled, but started inching over to the worktable in the far side of the room, dragging his butt slowly over the floor without ever quite raising it.

“Walk,” the old lady said, her voice very stiff and cold.

Naruto continued to slowly scooch his butt.

“Demon brat!”

Naruto jumped up and pointed a finger at her. “My name’s Uzumaki Naruto and don’t you forget it!” he shouted and stamped his foot. “Not demon or brat or anything! I’m _Naruto_.”

They stared at each other for a long time, Naruto growing redder and redder and angrier and also maybe a little scared, but ninja didn’t ever back down and he was gonna be the best of them all!

“Uzumaki,” the old granny finally said and she looked away. “Go do your homework.”

Naruto stomped over to the desk and pulled his chair out and sat down very hard. Then he winced because sitting down very hard hurt a lot, so he rubbed his butt. The pictures he drew yesterday were still all over the desk and Naruto picked his favorite one up-- it had him and Sasuke and Sakura all standing together (not holding hands because that was for girls) and Kakashi-nii-san in the back, extra tall and smiley with his eye. Shisui had helped him with coloring in everyone’s hair, especially Kakashi-nii-san’s grey spikes.

“Come back soon,” he whispered at the picture of his family.

 

* * *

 

There was no window, only the steady flame of a single candle that flickered briefly when Itachi walked in, reeking of sweat and ozone. Dark eyes, nearly the same as his own, looked up and briefly flashed red before settling back to their normal black. Shisui slowly pulled himself up from knees, exhaustion etched into every line of his body, fine wrinkles marring his pale brow.

“Shisui,” Itachi acknowledged and put a gentle hand on his cousin’s shoulder, stopping him from getting all the way up. “Thank you for coming.”

“You called,” Shisui said simply, the barest hints of his normally bright smile tugging at his mouth.

“So I did,” Itachi said, settling down in seiza next to Shisui, their knees almost touching. The ancient holy tablets seemed to glare down disapprovingly from the walls, fading strokes of black ink painted on wood that had been considered old before the thought of a Hidden Village was first conceived.

“Is there--”

“I have a noise cancelling genjutsu in place,” Shisui nodded. “Speak freely, no one will be able to overhear.”

“Good.” Itachi breathed in deeply, chakra drawn up deep inside of him and filling up his chest with flames that begged to be let out. “I have met with the Hokage.”

“And?” Shisui’s head jerked at Itachi, black curls spilling wildly across his face.

“He suspects as we do,” Itachi said, fingernails digging into the hard bone of his knees. “That Danzou is behind his disappearance.”

“Suspect!” Shisui hissed and the candle flame guttered, casting strange shadows over his cousin’s pale face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw. “We _know_.”

Itachi thought of the soft curve of Sasuke’s ear, white with frost and dotted with old blood, resting in a small box. “Yes,” he said very softly. “The illusion that Danzou has cast is very strong. He drives fear and madness into all of us, Shisui, fans the flames that were already growing out of control. He’s using Sasuke’s disappearance to drive us over the edge, exhausting and turning the Uchiha against the Village. It’s an illusion that no kai or sharp edge can break.”

“Because it’s real,” Shisui said, voice breaking.

_Aniki’s the best._

“I’ve been asked to infiltrate ROOT,” Itachi said and closed his eyes.

“You don’t mean Danzou’s--” Shisui sucked in a sharp breath and he broke seiza, reaching out to grip Itachi’s shoulder. “Itachi, you’re-- do you even know what--”

Itachi opened his eyes, half-hooded lids revealing bloody red pupils, tomoe spinning lazily. “My intention is to find Sasuke and should it come to it, to kill all those who would threaten the peace of the Village.” He drew in a ragged breath, fire deep inside of him growing until it felt as if everything inside was turned into nothing but ash and dust.

“You can’t tell me that the Hokage would ask something like this of you.” Itachi could see Shisui’s breath curl in the air as he hissed, waves of heat flickering from behind lips bitten down to bloodied flesh.

“I will do whatever I can for my brother,” Itachi said, looking straight ahead at the massive engraving of the Uchiha fan under the holy tablets, carved with painstaking attention to detail. “And if it means losing myself, so be it.”

_Shining Sun of Our people, I give myself unto you and pray that this unworthy one is payment enough. Amaterasu, Divine Radiance of the Heavens, destroy this Darkness and return my brother._

“I can’t let you do that.”

Itachi’s control over his Sharingan snapped, the mundane world crashing back down on him, fate lines of the world dissolving into thin air.

“ _What_ \--”

“You’re the future Head of this Clan. You can’t risk yourself like this, not with Sasuke already missing.” Shisui’s grip moved from Itachi’s shoulder to his hand, his fingers tangling with Itachi’s. His skin was feverishly warm and sticky with sweat.

“I won’t let you do that to yourself,” Shisui said fiercely. “I won’t let you destroy yourself trying to keep the damned Village together.”

Itachi swallowed, thoughts moving slowly, adrift in a sea of thick honey. “It doesn’t matter--”

“It matters to _me_ ,” Shisui said, grip tightening, eyes bright. “Threaten the peace? You know, even better than I do, how fragile the Clan is right now, especially with Sasuke’s kidnapping. One wrong move and we’ll be at war with the Village and Danzou has no better excuse to put us down, like we’re all a pack of rabid dogs. You can’t tell me that it wouldn’t be your job to stop that from happening, even if it means killing your family.”

Itachi shook his head slowly, Shisui’s voice ringing in his mind, drowning out all other sounds but the sweet chime of his words, intoxicating and deep with power.

“Shisui.” Itachi’s Sharingan slowly unfurled in his eyes, instantly cataloguing Shisui’s trembling face, the chakra burning bright in his fingers, tracking the flow of chakra from his cousin’s body to his own. “Release the genjutsu.”

Shisui drew back, giving Itachi a crooked smile. “I had to try,” he said and pulled his fingers back, ending the illusion. The cotton wrapped around Itachi’s head slowly dissipated and he found that he could properly think again.

“Why would you do this?”

Shisui’s smile slowly faded away and when he reached out again, Itachi saw that there was no trick, only Shisui’s hand gently cupping Itachi’s face. “Let me go in your place,” Shisui said, as if that were answer enough.

Itachi tasted ashes and dust. “And if I said no?”

“Then I’ll knock you out and go anyway.” Shisui’s eyes bled red and Itachi saw the pale reflection of his face mirrored in Shisui’s circling tomoe, Sharingan reflected in Sharingan. “I’m better suited for this job anyway. I’m stronger than you in genjutsu and Danzou has no reason to suspect anything from me.”

“Better suited to kill clansmen?”

“You’re needed to lead the resistance and convince the elders,” Shisui said quietly. “I’m just a branch kid, blessed with the favor of the main family and a gift for party tricks. I’m replaceable. You--” Shisui’s fingers tightened, the tips of his nails pressed against Itachi’s cheekbone, tiny pinpricks of pressure. “--you’re not.”

Itachi jerked his head away and out of Shisui’s reach. “You’re not giving me much a choice.”

“I’m sorry.”

Itachi closed his eyes, the fire in his chest burned out and nothing remained but the scorched wasteland where his heart used to be. “Go,” he said raggedly.

“Thank you.”

Itachi turned his head away, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of his thighs. “Get _out!_ ”

Shisui left, leaving Itachi alone in the dark room, with only the silent holy tablets looking on. They said nothing as he sat in perfect seiza, tears slowly, steadily dripping down his face.

 

* * *

 

They left Hiroki his life and not much else.

Kakashi kept an eye on Radiou as Genma tended to the boy, hands glowing a serene bluish-green that radiated in bursts from his hands. Tenzou kept himself busy in the field, a troop of clones busy repairing the earth so it looked less like a war zone and more like a normal training field.

“How much longer?”

“Just give me a couple more minutes.” Genma’s voice was strained and Kakashi could only imagine how pale his face was underneath the implacable porcelain mask, carved in the form of a howling wolf.

Kakashi kept a constant finger on Radiou’s pulse, too fast and weak for his liking. His skin was cold and pale from blood loss, but he was breathing regularly, even if his chest rise was a little shallow. Kakashi took what good news he could get.

“I’ve done the best I can.” Genma drew himself back onto his feet and staggered a little, waving off Kakashi’s attempt to help him up. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just.” He barked out a rough laugh. “This fucking mission.”

Kakahi pressed a hand against Hiroki’s bare forearm, sending out a pulse of chakra. There was only carnage underneath his fingertips, chakra coils torn and shredded like wet tissue paper. It was convincing enough to pass off as a jutsu backlash, chakra exploding in Hiroki’s coils after a misformed attempt to try out a higher level technique. “This is very good work.” He would never be able to form another jutsu again.

Genma rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head in appreciation. “Yeah, well. You can thank me by taking us all home, Captain.”

Kakashi stood up, absentmindedly cracking the joints in his fingers. “Cat, leave it as it is, we’ve got to get moving back to home base.”

Tenzou looked up from his perch on a slowly growing boulder, where he’d been shaping it to his precise specifications. He’d managed to stay away from Hiroki’s body since the fight, contenting himself with surveillance and cleanup duties. “We’re going back to the square?”

“We have to maintain our cover. With Gari reported missing and Hiroki’s freak accident, they’re going to be suspicious of anyone who leaves Iwa in a hurry. They’re going to swing by to interrogate anyway, we’re fresh-faced foreigners from Lightning Country.”

Genma shifted his mask enough to swig from his canteen. “I can’t wait until we’re out of this damned hellhole.” The strip of skin visible was pale and shiny with sweat.

“How’re we going to explain Tiger’s injuries?” Tenzou asked, leaping off his rock and trotting over. He stopped a good five feet away from Hiroki, never glancing over at the body on the ground.

“We’re not special intel operatives trained to maintain a cover under this kind of pressure,” Kakashi said quietly. “We may have to rely on the Liar’s Palace.”

Cat’s fists tightened, the only sign of his discomfort. “Oh.”

“Try to contain your enthusiasm,” Genma tried to joke, but it fell flat. The corners of his smile never reached his eyes.

“For what it’s worth--” Kakashi paused, throat working. He looked down at Radiou’s still body, wrapped in spare blankets and covered in aluminum bunting to keep in heat. Normally, Raidou was a sprawl of limbs when asleep, a mountain of a man with giant feet sticking out from under a blanket that barely covered his ankles. There was nothing normal about him now, lying down ramrod straight, blood seeping through hasty bandages. “I never intended to draw his attention to our team like this.”

“We know,” Genma said, not unkindly, but the corner of his mouth twisted downwards, and Kakashi looked away, unable to bear looking his subordinate in the eye.

“Let’s get going,” Kakashi said, clearing his throat, and bent down to carry Raidou in his arms. He was heavier than Kakashi remembered, a messy tangle of long limbs and mangled bits of plate armor. He carefully avoided looking at the half-healed remnants of Raidou’s chest.

“You alright, kiddo?” Genma asked, slinging his medic’s kit over a shoulder with only a slight wince.

Tenzou wrenched his gaze away from Hiroki’s sleeping face and turned the face of his implacably smooth Cat mask over to Genma. “Yes,” he said, calm.

“Seals on three,” Kakashi said and closed his one good eye, tasting ash and dust in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

“Iwa Military Police,” Kanryuu knocked against the granite wooden door, stone rippling outward from the epicenter of his fist.

Shizuka chewed absently on her toothpick, riffling through the papers the office monkeys had passed onto them on the way out. “They must be piss fuckin’ poor if they’re squatting in old Genjihara’s dump.”

“They’re from Lightning, they probably don’t the difference between a hovel and a garbage dump,” Kanryuu snorted and knocked again, hard enough to shift the grain of the stone. “Besides, the Ministry of Imports probably billeted them here so they can pocket the difference and buy whores with the extra money.”

“You have such a way with words, Kanryuu,” Shizuka said drily just as the door slid open, revealing a pale faced young boy with large round eyes and hair messily tied into a topknot.

“How can I help you sir, ma’am?” he asked politely, eyes widening a little as he took in the police insignia embroidered onto the front of their vests and chakra sticks hanging off their belts.

“We here to ask a few questions regarding an incident that occurred a few hours ago in the Village and we have reason to believe the culprit is around the area,” Shizuka reeled off, adopting just enough of a hard and polished tone that the boy automatically straightened his back.

“Of-- of course,” the boy said. “I don’t know know what’s going on, but if you would like to come inside, I can get Ichiro-nii to answer some of your questions.”

“Much obliged,” Kanryuu smiled, revealing tobacco stained teeth and several gaps in his smile. The boy flinched a little at the sight and Shizuka gave him a slight kick, annoyed that he was frightening the little kid. Kanryuu smiled even wider, enoying the reaction. It never got old.

They were politely seated in a tidy, though cramped sitting room, stuffed with boxes and boxes of what Kanryuu assumed to be filled with fabric and whatever the hell the merchants were selling. “Sorry about the mess,” the boy apologized, clearing off a chair and kicking aside a box full of receipts and papers. “We’re packing up to leave soon and it’s gotten a little bit crazy.”

“Not a problem,” Shizuka said easily, kicking back in the chair and giving the kid a smile. “Nice place you got here.”

Poor bastard flushed to the tips of his roots and mumbled something before scurrying out of the room, presumably off to find Ichiro-nii.

“And you kicked _me_ for smiling at the kid,” Kanryuu muttered. “You have no sense of mercy or fairness.”

“Your smile isn’t exactly the pinnacle of beauty,” Shizuka shot right back.

“Yeah well, I could say the same of yours,” Kanryuu said and dodged a half-hearted punch to the arm.

Their argument was cut short by the arrival of Ichiro-nii, hair slicked right back in the style that Lightning Country men favored, stinking of camphor grease and an overpowering cologne that made Kanryuu’s nose itch. He looked pale and overworked, dark circles coloring the skin under his eyes.

“It’s an honor to meet you both,” Ichiro said, exhaustion making his voice rough. “My apologies for the wait.”

“Quite alright,” Shizuka said, leaning forward in her chair and giving the new boy a look up and down and sideways. “You must be Ichiro-nii.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Ichiro said, settling onto a ratty looking footstool and running a hand through his greased hair. “Ryou said you had some questions about some incident or another?”

“Several hours ago, an important member of our community and his student went missing. The student was eventually found, but he’s severely injured, and his master is still presumed to be missing. We believe that the culprit fled to this general area, judging by the evidence we have so far.” Ryou, the boy who met them at the door, popped his head around the corner and colored a little at seeing Shizuka’s face. Kanryuu winked and made sure to flash his tattooed arms, enjoying the way the boy’s face whitened.

“This is the first I’ve heard of anything like this,” Ichiro shook his head and he looked truly regretful. Kanryuu read nothin’ but pure stinking truth on his face and scratched the left side of his nose to let Shizuka know. “I’m afraid I’ve been home all day and a good part of last night, so all of this is news to me.”

“If I may ask what you were doing?” Shizuka asked delicately, while Kanryuu flexed his muscles to look as threatening as possible in the background. No need to let anyone know he was anything more than a dumb piece of hired muscle.

“My cousin and our hired bodyguard seemed to have come down with food poisoning,” Ichiro sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I’ve been up all night cleaning up after them and trying to get their fevers down.

Shizuka clucked her tongue. “My sympathies.”

“You can send them to Genjihara after I’m done with him,” Ichiro frowned. “It’s the damned food they serve in this inn that made them sick. I know at least three other families on this floor who’ve complained about the meals here this entire month.”

“It must have been a terrible ordeal,” Shizuka nodded. “And if I may be so rude as to ask, is there any way we can confirm your presence here?”

“Ryou can,” Ichirou gestured behind him and the boy smiled tentatively at them from behind the corner. “He was with me all night, holding back Riku’s hair as he threw up all over the bathroom. And let’s see...old man Shinta downstairs at the reception desk. He’s always down there and he can tell you that the last time he saw us was late yesterday afternoon.”

“That’s very helpful,” Shizuka nodded and tapped her finger against her leg. _We’re done here_. That was good, he really needed to use the bathroom and maybe they would have enough time before their next assignment to hit up the lamb spice shop that opened up near HQ.

“We’re very grateful for your help, Ichiro-san. We’ve intruded on your hospitality long enough and we must get going anyway.”

“But I haven’t even offered you tea,” Ichiro protested as Kanryuu stood up, knees pooping and joints cracking.

“Maybe next time,” Shizuka smiled and got to her feet as well, chakra stick thumping against her hip. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ichiro-san.” Kanryuu gave his normal farewell nod and headed out the door, just in time to see Shizuka give the poor boy lurking in the background a smile and suggestive wink.

“They’re cute when they’re like that,” Shizuka laughed, shutting the door closed behind her and sealing it with a sharp twist of her chakra.

Kanryuu rolled his eyes. “Can’t get any men your age so you’ve stooped to robbing cradles now, is that how it’s going?”

“Oh hush,” Shizuka said, scribbling _Subjects 1472A clear; no follow-up recommended_ onto her notepad. “Or we’re gonna go spend our lunch break at Riko’s cafe.”

“No need to get nasty,” Kanryuu said grimly. “The old hag likes touching me in inappropriate places too much for me to ever feel safe eating there.”

“She pinched your butt once!” Shizuka laughed.

“The last man I saw touch you without your permission ended up in the hospital for a month and a half,” Kanryuu sniffed.

“I was being nice,” Shizuka said and she was admittedly right. The poor bastard right before that one had ended up permanently disabled. “Lamb shop on Sakurai street?”

“Now we’re talking,” Kanryuu said and twisted his heel against the cool stone floor, turning rock solid ground into a silk smooth puddle. It felt pleasantly warm and dry against his bare feet. “Next stop, lunch.”

“Why is it that you’re the one always initiating the burrowing jutsu,” Shizuka complained, but she grabbed his arm all the same as they sunk into the ground, sucked in by a gently swirling vortex of molten stone. “And you always do it funny, it makes me dizzy whenever I get out.”

“No side-along comments while I’m working a jutsu,” Kanryuu snorted as they disappeared into the earth, the liquid floor instantly hardening into solid rock where they once stood.

 

* * *

 

“You’re scheduled to leave in a few days,” the chuunin commented idly as she looked over their papers and stamped them with the official seal of the Ministry of Borders. “Why so early?”

“We’re all out of stock actually,” Riku grinned, tossing his braid over a shoulder and giving her a wink. “And we’re a little homesick for real mountain air after a month here.”

“Any plans on coming back?” the chuunin smiled coyly, leaning against the desk so he was afforded a better look down her shirt.

“Maybe,” Riku said and with an elegant twist of wrist, wrested the papers out of her grasp and back into a worn leather pouch. “What do you think about summer in a year?”

The chuunin laughed, loud and bright, throwing back her head to reveal the smooth curve of her neck. “It’s a miracle how you get any girls at all if that’s all the smooth talking you have,” she said.

Riku wiggled his fingers at her. “Ah, but I’ve got the magic touch.”

The chuunin’s bright grin turned salacious. “I’m beginning to see why,” she said huskily.

“Oi, Riku,” Ichirou shouted from the front of the wagon, impatiently flicking the reins. “Put it back in your pants and let’s get going.”

Riku gave her a regreful look and tucked his leather pouch away. “Next time, my fair ninja lady?”

“We’ll see,” she said, amused, and waved him away.

Riku hopped up onto the wagon with a bounce in his step, jostling elbows with Ichirou as he fought for space on the front seat. It only took a sharp tug and a click of Ichirou’s tongue to get them rolling and out of Iwagakure for the first time in almost a month.

Genma visibly slumped forward, tension practically leaking out of him as they drew farther and farther away from Iwa’s gates and towards home.

“Tired from flirting?” Kakashi asked, feeling the faintest tendrils of genjutsu tangle themselves around him and hide the gates from view. There was a reason guides were only needed to bring people in and not out.

“Just tired,” Genma said, pinching his nose and rubbing his temples. “Got a massive headache that refuses to go away.”

Kakashi gave Genma a side-long look. He was deathly white underneath his tan, with great dark bruises under and around his eyes. Kakashi wondered if those were lingering after-effects from being in such close range with Gari’s kekkei genkai. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Kakahi quietly observed. “You shouldn’t have healed my leg last night.”

“It’s a necessary allocation of resources,” Genma said immediately. “You’re the Captain and you’re the only one who knows how to get us out of this shitshow intact and back home.”

“You’re our only medic,” Kakashi said and flicked the reins, even though Jin hardly needed the direction or the motivation. “And Raidou is the most critically injured.”

Genma jerked his head towards the back, though it was covered by a tent of oilcloth, hiding Raidou and Tenzou from view. “You now, back during the war, I thought they were, not joking, but you know how it is with soldiers. Seeing it for real, in person.” He shuddered. “I don’t even know how Tsunade-sama managed to save so many of his victims.”

“You did good,” Kakashi said and felt Genma start a little next to him, shoulders tensing.

“I--”

“We’re all still alive,” Kakashi said and pressed closer against Genma. “You did enough and more, soldier.”

Kakashi felt the way Genma relaxed, inch by inch, and started to lean against him. They sat in quiet silence for a long while, passing through empty canyons with nothing but the sound of Jin’s hoofbeats beating in counterpoint to their hearts.

 

* * *

 

Kakashi pushed them harder and faster as the air changed, turning wetter, the ground growing soft and lush with moss. They had erased all traces of the wagon and cut the horse loose some fifty miles back, close to a civilian homestead, and ran like proper ninja with nothing but the wind in their faces and chakra willing them forward.

Tenzou ran point, arm streaming behind him like twin blades cutting through the wind and Kakashi followed up with Raidou on his back and Genma guarding their rear, the two steady points of chakra that anchored Kakashi in the mind-numbing run towards the end. Hours passed in this mind numbing state, legs growing leaden and tired as they pressed forward relentlessly.

They were only an hour’s hard run to the border when everything fell apart.

In the span between one heartbeat and another, Kakashi felt his grasp on the world shatter. He slammed to a sudden stop, tightening his grip on Raidou to keep him from slipping. Automatically he breathed in, searching desperately for the two anchors that kept him tethered.

Ahead, Kakashi could see Tenzou’s porcelain white cat mask, chakra signature fluttering and beating in confusion. On his back, Raidou’s much slower and fainter signature washed slowly at the edge of his senses. That only left--

“Genma!”

Tenzou leapt past him and down onto the ground where Genma lay, crumpled in on himself. “Genma, are you with me?”

His limbs were splayed like a broken doll’s, face white in the reflected moonlight except for the great ugly big bruises circling his eyes.

Kakashi carefully laid Raidou down on the ground next to Genma and called forth a spark of lightning to his fingers. Carefully, he brought his fingers over to Genma’s still face and Tenzou automatically drew back.

He gently flicked open Genma’s eyes and checked the pupils. Blown and unequal. Kakashi extinguished the light and reached down to pinch and twist Genma’s earlobe. No reaction. Pulse: faint and irregular.

“What’s going on?”

Kakashi didn’t answer and instead tilted his head to the side, brushing aside Genma’s hair to reveal deep purple bruises behind Genma’s ears. With delicate fingers, he probed the base of Genma’s skull and felt a slight depression near the bottom, right near the border of his occipital and temporal bones.

“Brain bleed,” Kakashi said grimly. “And it’s a few days old, judging by the bruising and the state of his pupils right now.”

“It’s been four days since the fight with Gari,” Tenzou said, horrified. “You can’t mean he hasn’t--”

“It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long,” Kakashi said, quiet, remembering that brief moment when Genma’s head had snapped back and hit the ground while cushioning Raidou’s impact.

“We’re so close to Grass, if we could just carry--”

“It’s hard enough with Raidou on my back as it is,” Kakashi said. “Carrying Genma would just slow us down even more.”

“You can’t mean we abandon him to his fate,” Tenzou hissed, shoulders tight.

“Not quite,” Kakashi said and pulled his dogtags over his head. He held them out expectantly. “Take this and run to the outpost we have by the Grass-Fire border.”

“But--”

“This is an order,” Kakashi said flatly. “Take my tags and run and get reinforcements. Grass is small enough that you can cross it in a few hours if you run hard enough and we’re close enough to the Grass-Earth border as it is from here. They’ll have enough power there to use summoning transports to get here.”

Kakashi could see the Adam’s apple in Tenzou’s throat bob as he swallowed. “Do you understand, soldier?”

“Sir, yes sir,” Tenzou said and he took the tags.

“Good. We’ll be waiting.”

Tenzou saluted, fist over his heart. There was no better farewell than the sight of him dissipating into thin air, inky black cloak fading away until the only thing Kakashi could see was Tenzou’s ghoulishly grinning cat mask, until that too disappeared into the night.

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready, Uchiha Shisui?”

Shisui held the mask up in the light. It looked surprisingly plain and ordinary looking in the fluorescent light, nothing like the mask of terrors that haunted every small child’s nightmares, dripping with the blood of strange enemies.

“As ready as I ever will be Hokage-sama,” Shisui said and slid the mask over his face, securing it with a chakra string. He blinked, adjusting to the heavy weight of porcelain pressing against his face.

“You go with my blessings and the hopes of our Village,” Sandaime-sama said slowly, smoke-roughened voice especially hoarse.

“No pressure,” Shisui tried to grin but the mask was too heavy and strange on his face to allow for any expressions. He settled for saluting instead, bowing deeply as he went down on one knee.

“You have asked for no better pair of eyes, Hokage-sama,” Shisui said and rose up. “I’ll end this, one way or another.”

Sandaime-sama said nothing and watched as Shisui instantly vanished without even a disguising puff of smoke or leaves to hide the disturbance, living up to his nickname. He waited in silence for a few moments, before clearing his throat rather loudly in the empty room.

“You may come out now, Uchiha-kun,” he said gently.

Itachi stepped away from the corner, shadows dripping down his front and pooling at his feet until his entire front was revealed. Trace bits of inky shades still clung stubbornly to his hair and the curve of his jaw, giving him a faintly sinister appearance.

“Hokage-sama,” Itachi bowed.

“I have done as you asked,” Sandaime said.

“Mere words cannot express the depth of my gratitude.” Itachi flicked a finger and the darkness at his feet seeped into the floor and faded away. “He is--” Itachi paused and the unnaturally smooth facade of his face rippled.

“He is very important to me,” Itachi continued, with some difficulty.

“If there were any other way,” the Sandaime began and then stopped. Mere words could not express the depth of his regret and sorrow.

“If only,” Itachi said and closed his eyes. Sandaime suspected it was to hide the Sharingan. Or, perhaps tears. He was not sure.

 

* * *

 

Kakashi woke up, drowning in a pool of his own blood.

He gagged, trying to deal with sudden influx of memories rushing in from the death of his watch clone. Bile rose up in his throat he instantly spat it out and at the intruder hovering over his face.

Muscle memory propelled chakra through his fingers, calling up the burning white lightning that left blue streaks in his visions. Kakashi thrust forward blindly and was rewarded with a sharp hiss and the smell of burning fat.

Retreat, retreat. Kakashi scrambled backwards, feeling the comforting solid stone at his back and shoved his forehead protector up. Color bloomed into existence as Obito opened his eye and Kakashi recognized the tell-tale shock of white hair and round glasses.

 _Kabuto_.

Kakashi bared his fangs and went in for the kill.

Hard steel bit into the fleshy part of his palm but he pushed forward, lightning crackling in his palm and cauterizing the wound shut instantly. He wrapped his bare hand around the blade and _pulled_.

The intruder grunted in surprise and Kakashi brought his other hand to slam against bony ribs, hearing the satisfying _crack crack crack_ as costal cartilage smashed under the force of his blow.

It earned him a sharp whine of surprise and Kakashi growled, making sure to grind his fist even harder into bone and blood.

Fingers scrabbled helplessly against his arm but Kakashi paid it no mind. He flipped the blade in his bloody, chakra-blazing hand and held it against the fuckface’s throat.

“Hello,” Kakashi said, glorying in the stink of fear and pain rolling off of Kabuto in waves. “That’s very rude of you, dropping in unannounced.”

Kabuto whimpered, looking strangely young and vulnerable, round glasses nearly twice the size of his face. Kakashi frowned. This was Kabuto. He had the grey hair, the glasses, even his chakra moved the same way, sickly sweet and twisting in strange patterns that gave him a headache if he tried to focus too hard on it. And yet baby fat still clung to his cheeks and he was no where near as strong as Kakashi remembered.

“Please,” Kabuto moaned piteously. “Please don’t hurt me, oh please oh please.”

Of course, Kabuto would be ten years younger here. Kakashi had no idea how old the boy truly was back when Kakashi had first met him at the chuunin exams, but he looked about twelve or thirteen here, round face only hinting at the hard planes it might become in the future. What was he doing here, in this godforsaken part of the country?

“Please sir, I didn’t mean to--”

It took only a moment’s hesitation and Kabuto opened his mouth, spewing out a cloud of poisonous gas that burned Kakashi’s eyes and nose. He flew through a series of one handed seals and blew it away with the strength of the north wind, watching in deep satisfaction as the jutsu also tore mercilessly at Kabuto’s skin.

The wind faded away in a few moments, leaving only a battered Kabuto learning against the wall of the stone cave for support, armor torn to shreds.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”

Kabuto gave him a flat, unreadable look that sent uncomfortable shivers down Kakashi’s back.

“We could do this one way or another,” Kakashi said and waved the blade in his hand, sending a single spark of lightning through it. “How did you know I was here and what do you want?”

Something in Kabuto’s face shifted and Kakashi doubted it was the physical threat that made him twitch. He could only guess at the strange machinations of the child standing before him. Was he working for Orochimaru? Akatsuki? Kakashi tracked his every movement with Obito’s eye and committed it to memory.

“I’ve been sent by a collector,” Kabuto said slowly, in a sweet little boy’s voice. It made Kakashi’s teeth itch and hackles rise.

“Keep talking,” Kakashi said.

“He knows of your reputation as the Copy Ninja. I was sent to acquire your Sharingan.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Kakashi said and flicked the blade in his hand, splattering blood onto the floor. “As you can see, I still have my eye.”

“I am, admittedly, not your match in a physical fight,” Kabuto said and then paused. Slowly, carefully telegraphing his movements, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Your teammate in the wolf mask currently has a basilar skull fracture, suffering from severe internal bleeding and increased ICP. If he doesn’t receive treatment in the next three hours, it is almost certain he will die. Your teammate in the tiger mask is suffering from hypovolemic shock that is guaranteed to decompensate in the ten hours and has a developing infection that’s threatening to go septic.” Kabuto smiled.

“I can heal them,” he said, “in exchange for your Sharingan.”


	9. Chapter 9

There was no point to stealth anymore. It was only out of habit that Kakashi silenced the sound of his footsteps, but both he and Kabuto remained in view as he crossed the width of the cavern, blade abandoned behind.

Kabuto’s smile grew fixed as Kakashi came closer and closer, but otherwise did not move.

He stopped only inches away from the slender boy, close enough that he could see the fluttering beat of Kabuto’s heart in his throat, close enough that stink of fear and excitement overwhelmed nearly everything else, except for the coppery tang of Raidou’s blood.

“I am willing to heal your own injuries as a demonstration of my capabilities,” Kabuto said, licking his cracked lips. “I understand your hesitations, of course. But these are the terms of my services.”

Kakashi closed Obito’s eye.

Bolstered by the absence of the Sharingan, Kabuto’s eyes glittered. “I even came with a modified biosynthetic prosthetic suited to match your own. You need only to give up this one thing, in order to save your teammates.”

Kakashi tilted his head.

“Will you let them die just for the sake of your reputation?”

“Who do you work for?”

There wasn’t any hesitation as Kabuto smiled slowly, the only movement he made under Kakashi’s stony gaze. “Every second you waste, the more difficult it will be to render care,” he said silkily. “Decide quickly, Hatake Kakashi.”

“And if I decide to keep it?”

Kabuto stared back boldly, belying the sour stench of fear leaking from his pores. “Then the lives of your comrades rest upon your shoulders,” he said very softly.

Kakashi sighed and rocked back on the balls of his heels. “Alright,” he said, looking down blindly at his feet. “Alright,” he said again, fingers clenched into a tight fists. “I’ll do it.”

Kabuto straightened, hands coming up to clap as a beatific smile crossed his face. “Excellent choice, Hatake-san. My master will be very pleased with your cooperation.” He stepped forward, arms spread as if to embrace Kakashi.

Kakashi snarled and made his move.

Raw chakra exploded from his right fist as he punched straight through Kabuto’s invitingly open torso, blood and fat vaporized into a fine mist. His hand tore through layers of muscle like wet tissue paper, instantly cauterizing the flow of blood even as soft wet organs burst under the pressure of his strike.

Kabuto’s young face, still round with baby fat and pink-cheeked, looked up at Kakashi uncertainly.

Chunks of flesh dripped unsteadily from Kakashi’s clenched fist as it emerged from Kabuto’s back and onto the floor, an odd counterpoint to the soft patter of rainfall outside.

“But the profile,” Kabuto said blankly, as if the pain from the blow had still not quite registered with him. “The profile said...that the odds of you accepting...were very high.”

Kakashi gave him a grim smile. “The profile was wrong,” he said, voice deadly, and drew back his fist.

Kabuto gasped and his legs suddenly collapsed underneath him, as if the strings controlling his limbs had been cut. There was a harsh crack as the back of his head snapped back to hit hard rock, glasses skittering away on the ground like a frantic spider.

“No--!” Kabuto breathed raggedly, one hand scrambling madly for the lenses. The other clutched at the ragged hole in his stomach, glowing a faint grass-green under the lurid coating of blood.

“None of that,” Kakashi said quietly as he stepped on Kabuto’s wrist, feeling bone snap. The fingers froze into a mockery of a human hand, fingertips curved into claws. He ground the glasses into a fine dust underneath his heel, watching Kabuto’s face grow winter-pale.

“You won’t be needing those anymore.” Kakashi hunkered down into a crouch and pulled a kunai out of an thigh holster with his left hand. His right hand hung uselessly by his side, skin burned to a crisp and still dripping blood. Carefully, with neat economical motions, he used the blade to angle Kabuto’s glowing green hand away from his body and pinned it down onto the ground, kunai buried to the hilt through his palm.

“They will die because of you,” Kabuto whispered faintly, voice rough from pain. “You will live with your Sharingan and with their lives forever hanging over your shoulders.”

“You’re right, that would have worked on me,” Kakashi said, looking down at Kabuto’s face. It looked even younger without the glasses, dark eyes round and fearful.

“But you see, I’m not the same person I was a few months ago,” Kakashi said, pulling out another kunai. “I know who you are, Kabuto.”

The boy’s face whitened even further, the black of his eyes stark against his pale skin.

“And I mean to eke out every ounce of pain I can from you, for deeds past, present and future.” Kakashi leaned in, pressing the razor sharp edge of his blade against the tender skin of Kabuto’s throat. A thin line of blood welled up, trembling, before trickling down into the hollow of his collarbone.

“Tell me who you work for,” Kakashi said, leaning in close enough that he only had to whisper to be heard. The kunai slid down, scraping Kabuto’s skin before it hit the bone of his broken ribs, flesh stretched taut between the jagged edges. “I’ll know when you lie.”

Kabuto gave him a sickly smile. “You can try.”

Shadows wrapped serpentine arms around Kakashi’s eye, instantly blinding him. He growled and scrambled forward, hands clamping tight around Kabuto’s throat through instinct. “What did you _do_ \--”

He pitched forward into darkness and knew no more.

 

* * *

 

“Shodai’s saggy balls, I’m getting too fucking old to be doing this at my age.”

A hot gust of air ghosted over Kakashi’s face; he could smell old pipe smoke, ink and the faint remnants of last night’s curry, filtered through the blood-stained mess of his mask. And underneath it all, a deeply familiar scent that lit up his fog-stuffed mind like a beacon.

“I promised the kid bodies and I got him bodies,” the voice continued to mutter, cotton whispering quietly as a body settled down next to his side, radiating heat. “Intact mind is another thing entirely.”

Kakashi’s eye snapped open and he caught the fingertip hovering just inches away from his mask.

“Oho, guess who decided to join the land of the living,” Jiraiya rumbled as he gently disentangled his hand from Kakashi’s shaking grip. “You know who you are?”

“You’re dead,” Kakashi said, blank.

“Ah.” Jiraiya scratched his head and slapped his thigh. “Damn it, I really did scramble your brain.”

Kakashi struggled to sit up, flinching away when Jiraiya tried to lend him a hand. His wide eye absently took in the wet tile floor he was lying on, covered in hundreds of seal characters winding circuitous routes throughout the room. The effort took the wind out of his chest and he hunched over, wheezing.

“Easy there, kiddo,” Jiraiya said, rising from his crouch and hovering worriedly over Kakashi’s head. “Didn’t bring you back just to have you expire in front of me.”

Kakashi looked down at his shaking hands, at the battered metal backing of his ANBU issue gloves. Grit and mud caked his nail beds, old blood flaking in the lines of his fingers.

“You’re not dead,” he said, wondering.

“Right in one.” A heavy hand settled on his shoulder and Kakashi looked up at Jiraiya’s battered old face. There were less lines than he remembered, but the Toad Sage looked much as the same as Kakashi last saw him, ten years in the future.

That was right, Kakashi was in the past, and in the past Jiraiya was _alive_. Kakashi swallowed hard and clasped Jiraiya’s hand with his own.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Has it really been that long since we last saw each other?” Jiraiya asked, a little bemused. “I thought we bumped into each other at the old man’s office a couple of months ago, during one of the festivals. The one honoring the new shrine consecrated in the village grounds.”

Kakashi gave him a lopsided shrug; perhaps his old self would have remembered, but the last Kakashi had seen of the man was at his own funeral, face grim and lined in his official portrait, draped with black ribbons.

“But first, a couple of questions to make sure I didn’t knock your head too badly around during the summoning. Who am I, what is the last thing you remember and what is the last date you can recall?”

“Jiraiya-sama, interrogating Kabuto and the fifteenth of the Harvest Moon,” Kakashi reeled off instantly.

“Ah, so that’s the mysterious gray-haired fella we found,” Jiraiya said, leaning back on his heels with a thoughtful look. “Not exactly part of the summoning ritual, so it was a surprise when he popped in with the rest of you.”

Kakashi traced the curve of a seal character by his knee, coolly admiring the strength and clarity imbued with every stroke of chakra-imbued ink. Jiraiya’s work was as masterful as always, carrying a more than striking resemblance to Minato-sensei’s old work. It was comforting, to be surrounded by such familiarity. The characters for space-time, stabilized by the horse and crescent construct, the curves of a summoning contract magnified a hundred times and altered to accommodate subjects in the physical plane, instead of astral.

“You summoned us across half a country,” Kakashi said slowly, a sense of awe mounting deep inside his chest. “Maybe more. Are we in Grass?”

“Clever boy,” Jiraiya said, fond.

“But how did--?”

“Timing, as you know,” Jiraiya informed him, eyes glittering madly, “is everything. Imagine my surprise when I popped by the outpost, cooling my heels with a spot of tea, when a half-crazed ANBU drenched in sweat and dead on his feet from chakra exhaustion hurtles into the building, demanding a battalion of troops as reinforcements for a stranded ANBU team in Earth Country.”

“He made it, then,” Kakashi said, shoulders sagging in sudden relief. “What about the rest of my men?”

Jiraiya’s face stilled for a moment too long before it smoothed out into a fierce grin. “Alive, which is more than I could say for you when I caught sight of your sorry ass.”

“Ah,” Kakashi said, and let him have his lie. Alive was enough for now. It had to be.

“Didn’t sound like there was enough time to gather up men and head all the way back. So I thought, why not summon you all?”

Only Jiraiya would nonchalantly think of summoning an ANBU team across half a country. Why not indeed.

“What did you even use for a focus?”

Jiraiya stood up and trotted over to the center of the room, where three circles were outlined in a dark reddish brown-- dried blood. “Your dogtags,” he explained, pointing at the first one. The second circle: “Tenzou’s medkit, stocked and stitched personally by Genma.” In the last circle lay a heap of tattered black fabric, dark with blood and sweat.

“Namiashi was tough. No obvious material available, so your boy stripped his clothes off in hopes that maybe even a little of Namiashi’s blood was on it.”

“Risky,” Kakashi said softly.

“It worked,” Jiraiya shrugged. “They’re upstairs right now, being seen to.”

Kakashi’s left fingers curled into a tight fist, nails digging blood-red crescents into the meaty flesh of his palm. “And Kabuto?”

“You were holding onto him pretty tightly, which is how I’m guessing he was pulled along for the ride.” Jiraiya’s dark eyes were hard and unreadable.

“He’s not to be trusted,” Kakashi hissed, bringing his fist up in a tight arc in half-remembered motion.

“Kind of gathered that, judging from the way you were choking what little life he had out of him,” Jiraiya said, voice dry as a Wind Country desert. “He’s in max security, with every kind of chakra suppressant they have in this place.”

Kakashi forced in a deep breath, ignoring the agony flaring up deep inside his lungs. “Good,” he said, as steadily as he could manage. The Grass outpost meant resources, a hot bath, food, and time to regroup and think about his next move. There was time enough to focus on Kabuto and figure out who was controlling him and what for.

“Rough mission?”

Kakashi gave him a lopsided grin under the mask. “I guess you could call it that,” he said.

“Keep yourself together, alright?” Jiraiya straightened his back all the way, wincing as joints popped and crackled. “I’d like to know that the next time I see you won’t be at the wrong end of an ANBU mission. Take some time off, put yourself on the teaching rosters and take on a team. Live a little. My newest book just came out last year, you know. Branching out into a new genre, I think you’ll like it. I’ll get you a copy once we get all sorted out from this mess.”

“I know,” Kakashi said, deeply enjoying the gobsmacked look on the older man’s face. “I’ve read it a few times over by now. It’s good.”

“Merciful heavens,” Jiraiya muttered, rubbing the stubble on his weathered face. “Are you even old enough to read that kind of stuff?”

“I’m--” Kakashi hesitated, wondering now how to even calculate his age. Was he still thirty? Or twenty? Or perhaps the trick of it was to add up the numbers? “--old enough to drink, even,” he compromised.

Jiraiya humphed, crossing his arms over his chest, sharp eyes missing nothing. “Like the law ever mattered to you,” he said. “Alright kiddo, let’s get you upstairs and into the hands of a medic-nin, don’t want you bleeding out on this damned floor. And once you’re settled, I’ve gotta get going. Old man’s probably gonna chew my ass out for being late.”

“Are you going back to the Village?” Kakashi winced as Jiraiya placed a steady arm around his shoulders, grateful for the support as he struggled to get his legs moving. His right arm dangled helplessly by his side, chakra coils completely blown out; his left was hardly better as he used it to lean against the wall.

“Politics,” Jiraiya spat, his thick bushy tail of hair nearly blinding Kakashi as he turned his head. “Looks like it’s gearing up to be a real nasty fight between the Council and the Uchiha.”

Kakashi’s heartbeat stuttered to a stop. “What do you mean?” he asked thickly, mouth going numb.

“Uchiha Sasuke, Fugaku’s second son--well, sounds like he’s gone missing and the Uchiha are blaming Danzou. The old goat’s denying everything of course, and the Uchiha aren’t happy, the Councilors are upset with the Uchiha for making baseless accusations, knives are being pointed everywhere and the old man’s convinced that Danzou’s gonna use this somehow and blow up the whole village, maybe even engineer his way into wearing the old hat.” Jiraiya blew out a gusty sigh, wooden geta scraping loudly on the tiled floor. “It’s a fucking mess is what it is.”

“Sasuke’s...gone missing?”

Jiraiya clattered to a sudden stop, gripping Kakashi’s shoulders tightly. “Oi, oi, stay with me here. What’s wrong?”

Sasuke was missing.

Kakashi closed his lone eye and felt the entire world vanish beneath him.

“Oi! Brat! I did not risk my life to save your fucking ass only for you to die in front of me. Kakashi!”

He’d come all this way and it was going to be for _nothing_.

“Kakashi! Snap out of it, damn you! Is there a medic out there? Medic!”

Sasuke was most likely dead, Danzou was going to have his massacre and the pack that he had killed himself to save was gone. He should have never left for this godforsaken mission, never let them out of his sight, how could he have been so stupid as to fall for the trap, with Kabuto lying in wait--

Kabuto.

He opened Obito’s eye, tomoe swirling lazily in a pool of blood red. Jiraiya’s face moved in slow motion; the span between each eyeblink was a small eternity, each breath containing a universe of meaning. Hundreds and thousands of possibilities sprang forth into being, until past and present and future became one amorphous being, held in the spinning infinity of Obito’s gift.

“Let go of me,” Kakashi said softly.

“Are you mad? We need to get you to the infirmary--”

“Jiraiya,” Kakashi said, his voice deathly cold. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Jiraiya moved away. Kakashi read a thousand emotions in the old man’s face and dismissed them all instantly.

“Kakashi, what are you doing?”

Kakashi looked down at his charred right hand, still clenched in a bloody and blackened fist. “I’m going to finish what I started,” he said. “Tell me, where is the prisoner being held?”

 

* * *

 

“Captain!”

Kakashi didn’t bother to slow down, trusting Tenzou to catch up with him.

“You’re leaving behind a trail of blood,” Tenzou said, voice pitched low enough so that Jiraiya, who was following behind at a distance, wouldn’t hear.

Kakashi didn’t bother to answer, instead giving his subordinate a quick once over to make sure the medics cleaned him up. His hands were freshly bandaged and there was a little color to his cheeks, though the great purple bruises under his eyes nearly took up half his face.

“Did you get your medkit back?”

“What?” Tenzou’s hand moved automatically to his waist. “Yes, of course, but--”

“If I could borrow it for a moment.” Kakashi held out his left hand.

“Captain!”

There was a long silence, filled up by the sound of Jiraiya’s wooden geta clacking against the floor.

Tenzou unclipped the pouch at his hip and slowly handed it over, deep furrows etched into his brow.

Kakashi came to a stop as he accepted it and flicked it open as best he could with the same hand. He dry swallowed two soldier pills, spitting out the plastic wrapping onto the floor, then picked out a tiny vial of stimulant and a hypodermic needle.

“I’m going to need you to assist me with this.” He caught Tenzou’s wide brown eyes and added calmly, “I will make sure that they see fit to restock your supplies.”

Tenzou sputtered. “That’s not the point! Captain, you haven’t slept in days, your chakra reserves are probably running low, your fist is a bloody mess and you’ve just been pulled through a long-distance human summoning! The backlash from that kind of space-time manipulation should put you in bed for days, let alone all the other injuries you have. You need rest, not-- not whatever it is you’re doing right now!”

Kakashi looked at him and said nothing.

Jiraiya snorted from behind. “Face it, kid. Kakashi’s gone off his rocker.”

“ _Jiraiya-sama_ ,” Tenzou said wretchedly. “You’ve got to do something.”

Jiraiya opened his mouth, paused and then shook his head. “I don’t think anyone can stop him at this point,” he said, in a very different tone of voice.

Kakashi gave Tenzou a level look. “Well?”

Tenzou swallowed hard. “Promise me you’ll see a medic,” he said. “After this.”

“Yes, I will,” Kakashi lied and watched in silence as Tenzou drew up the vial with steady hands, golden liquid pooling in the glass tube. Kakashi hardly noticed the prick of the needle as it sank deep into the muscle of his arm, instead focusing on the smoky streams of artificial chakra starting to flow through his body.

“It’s done.”

“Good.” Kakashi gave back the kit and flexed his left hand, controlling the fine tremors that were already beginning to surface. It was enough.

They had stopped at an intersection, white walls physically unmarked to confuse possible intruders. Kakashi flicked Obito’s eye open, checked the chakra markers, and turned the corner to face the broad expanse of an empty wall.

With the Sharingan, he could make out chakra burning deep patterns into the wall, twisting and turning like phantom clockwork gears. Another time, he might have stopped to study the magnificent sealing work, the tiny intricate arrays that ticked in happy concert, each part adding to the greater whole.

There was no time for finesse any longer.

Kakashi drew his mask down and bit deep into his thumb, drawing blood. It glowed an iridescent blue, imbued with his chakra.

Tenzou and Jiraiya had discreetly inclined their heads away when he pulled down his mask, a fact for which Kakashi was distantly grateful for. Stretching up at far as he could go, Kakashi moved his hand in broad sweeping motions, each stroke made as thick and strong as possible.

It was only a single character, as tall and wide as a man:

 _Release_.

Kakashi slammed his hand on the wall and imbued it with as much chakra as he could spare. The character lit up instantly like a torch, blinding the Sharingan. Kakashi let the tears drip down, unheeded.

Cracks splintered throughout the wall everywhere the seal touched it, chakra patterns fracturing under the weight of Kakashi’s command.

Behind him, Jiraiya pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something along the lines of “miserable little son of a bitch.”

“What did he do?” Tenzou whispered.

“Imagine you are in a china shop,” Jiraiya said, not bothering to lower his voice at all. “Imagine hundreds of delicate porcelain dishes worth more than you own _life_ in all these nice glass shelves. In this metaphor, by the way, the wall is the china shop.”

“Jiraiya-sama--”

“Then imagine taking a sledgehammer and crushing everything.”

The wall shattered, chunks of plaster and wood and stone falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Chakra crackled and flared in bright blue bursts like sparks of lightning in between the billowing pillars of smoke. It was as if a small thunderstorm had suddenly formed in the middle of the hallway, foreboding rain in the end of the hallway.

“Ah,” Tenzou said. “I see.”

Kakashi picked his way around the rubble, ignoring the warning sirens blazing over his head. A gape mouthed Yamanaka clutched a stack of paperwork to her chest as Kakashi stepped into the hidden room that was revealed by the broken wall.

“Where is he?”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Where is _he_ ,” Kakashi said again and let his killing intent wash through the entirety of the room.

“You broke the seals,” the Yamanaka said stiltedly, blue eyes wide.

Kakashi snarled.

Jiraiya breezed past him and took the woman about the shoulders, smiling broadly. “Hanako-chan! Well, you’ve only grown more beautiful since I last saw you!”

She shuddered and seemed to wake from her daze, cheeks flushing a bright red when she caught Jiraiya sneaking a look down her shirt. “Jiraiya-sama!”

Jiraiya rubbed his cheek where she’d slapped him, grinning. “And just as strong as I remembered too. Sorry about the mess, Kakashi’s just a little over excited. You know how it is.”

Hanako swallowed and looked at what used to be the wall separating the interrogation cells from the main outpost. “No, not really,” she said. Her eyes flicked over to Kakashi briefly.

“I know it’s a pain, but we’re looking for the newest prisoner brought in just now. Goes by the name Kabuto, gray hair.”

“He’s not fit to be questioned,” Hanako said sharply. “He’s been seriously injured and I haven’t even been able to give him the full patdown physically, let alone mentally. He could have a cyanide tooth or a mental genjutsu planted on him. It’s not safe.”

“He won’t kill himself,” Kakashi said flatly. “I won’t let him.”

“But--” She swallowed her protests as Kakashi looked at her, Obito’s eye wide and unblinking. “He’s in Unit 6A.”

Kakashi swept past her and through the doorway lodged innocuously in the corner, marked only by a small discreet seal. The rest of the room was filled with filing cabinets and desks; the only other doorway in the room had a very large and ostentatious padlock that Kakashi suspected to be just for show.

The seal on the doorjamb tore like wet paper as he applied a smaller release seal, thumb still dripping with blood.

The overwhelming stench of bleach was the first thing he smelled when he opened the door. Everything was scrubbed meticulously clean, until he could hardly tell the wall from the floor from the ceiling. There were no windows, nor clocks nor even pieces of art on the wall to differentiate place or time. Not even light. Kakashi stepped into the small piece of eternity and headed for the only occupied cell.

Kakashi pressed his bloody hand against the seal of the cell door, blasting through rice paper and ink through sheer power. The cast iron door swung inward silently, revealing a metal cot bolted to the wall, with a chamberpot secured to the ground next to it.

Kabuto lay shackled to his bed, medical seals hiding the gaping hole in his middle. His chest rose in shallow, gasping motions, eyes closed as if in sleep.

Kakashi bent over the sleeping boy and drew down his mask.

“Hello, Kabuto,” he smiled, baring his fangs.

Kabuto’s black eyes snapped open and Kakashi reveled in the sickly sour scent of fear.

“We were very rudely interrupted before,” he said and drew out a fresh kunai. “Why don’t we begin again?”

 

* * *

 

Even evil masterminds kept tidy offices. Shisui slipped into the room in full uniform, mask loosely secured to his hip. The desk was unoccupied, with a tidy set of invoice boxes that Uncle Fugaku had in his office as well. Bookcases filled with philosophical treatises and dusty tomes dating back to the Shodai’s time lined the walls. No windows, which said a lot more about the man than any kind of book he read or the type of office furniture he used.

“Uchiha Shisui, isn’t it?”

“Councilman!” Shisui automatically went down on a knee, fist pressed against his heart.

A cane tapped steadily on the floorboards and from the corner of his eye, he could just make out deep black folds of cloth sweeping along the ground.

“You may rise, Agent,” Danzou said formally and Shisui pulled himself back up to his feet in one fluid motion, careful not to make direct eye contact with the man.

“Allow me to congratulate you on your successful admission to the Corps, Uchiha-kun. I’m sure your skills would be of great use to the Hokage and the Village.”

Shisui inclined his head deeply. “You honor me with your words, Councilman.”

“You must be wondering why I’ve called you to this meeting.”

“Sir--”

Danzou held up a hand and Shisui instantly fell silent. “No, let’s not beat around the bush here.” He gave Shisui a creaky smile. “I’m afraid since my retirement I’ve grown rather tired of shinobi circuitousness.”

Shisui swallowed.

“The Sandaime personally nominated you for service,” Danzou said, quiet. “I want to know why.”

Shisui looked up and at Danzou for the first time, black eyes hard. “I asked him,” he said simply.

“Asked--?” For one brief moment Danzou looked astonished, before he threw his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking. “You _asked_ him-- Sage Willing, this sounds exactly like something Hiruzen would agree to.”

“Sir,” Shisui said stiffly.

“No offense meant on your part,” Danzou smiled and clapped his one hand down on the table. “Just an age-old philosophical disagreement I’ve had with my friend. Well then, young Uchiha-kun. What drove you to ask this of the Hokage himself?”

Shisui’s hands instinctively clenched into white-knuckled fists. “I felt that I had the opportunity to serve the Village with the skills that I had. ANBU would have better use for my talents than any other mission available through ordinary channels.”

“Oh?” Danzou leaned forward in his seat, face unreadable. “And why not wait until you were properly nominated and presented as a candidate?”

“I…” Shisui looked away. “My cousin,” he said slowly. “Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

“Uchiha Itachi?” Danzou made an unintelligible noise. “Yes, I suppose you could say I am aware of him.”

“He has already been nominated and sworn in to serve the Corps,” Shisui said, distantly observing the fine tremors in his shaking fists, as if his hands belonged to another man entirely. “At the age of twelve.”

“Commendable.”

“I am useful as well,” Shisui said fiercely. “I am an Uchiha as well. I have unparalleled mastery of the Sharingan not found in elders thrice my age, let alone my age mates. I too wish to serve the Village in my own way. I knew that my clan would see Itachi in the Corps and be satisfied, and the rest of the Village would know no better. Is there not room enough for more than one Uchiha in the service?” Shisui shuddered and looked away, down at his ANBU-issue boots. The leather was smooth and uncracked, still yet to see blood or fire. “Can they not see beyond their own illusions?”

“Ahh,” Danzou said and Shisui looked up, startled. The old man’s eye was glittering, bright as a beetle’s flashing carapace.

“Oh yes,” he said softly. “I think you’ll do very well indeed, Uchiha Shisui.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t have a lot of time,” Shisui mumbled, running a hand through his greasy hair. He stared numbly at the rumbling washing machine.

“Two cups of detergent,” the woman said kindly, pointing at the orange bottle sitting by his feet.

“Oh, yes of course.” Shisui bent down, fingers fumbling against the plastic handle. A thick syrupy blue liquid splashed on the ground and onto his toes, but he hardly felt it, busy pouring it straight into the drum. After a bit, it looked like two cups had gone in, so he dropped it back onto the floor and shut the lid.

“Are you sure you’re not being followed?”

Shisui jerked his shoulder over to the back, where an Aburame was busy folding his pile of jackets.

The woman stiffened, metal flashing in her hands.

“Don’t worry,” Shisui said, wiping his sticky hands on his uniform pants. “I’ve convinced him that nothing really is going on right now. Just doing my laundry on my offday like any other rookie operative desperate for clean clothes.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, voice tight.

Shisui gave her a tired smile. “I have to be, to do this kind of stuff.” He rolled his shoulders, stretching out the kinks in his muscles. “It’s a thing I do,” he said, waving vaguely at his eyes. “I build truths and sell them to people to believe. I’m pretty ok at it, I guess.”

At her incredulous look he added, “I try not to do it on people I like. It’s not very good for maintaining healthy relationships, you know.”

“Ah,” the woman said and turned back to unloading her own load of laundry. “So, how’s life in the Corps?”

“I’m adjusting ok,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pocket and staring at the washing machine. “My new friends just took me to a nice club down by the warehouse district. Creepy atmosphere, but it was worth it for the great mixed drinks.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve never lived by myself before,” he informed her. “It’s fun. I’ve even been cooking for myself now.”

“So, ramen?”

“Baby steps.” He kicked the base of the machine with the tip of his foot. Pain burst in his toes, razor sharp and clarifying. Shisui tried to hold onto the feeling. “I still haven’t figured out who’s dating who and all the gossip about the members keeps flying over my head, but it’s always like that when you join a new group. I feel like I’m gonna be playing catchup for awhile.”

The woman slammed the door to the drum of the machine shut, picking up the laundry basket at her feet with a huff. “Sounds rough. How’re you doing with the mission quota?”

Shisui’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “I’m getting there,” he forced out. “I just need a little more time.”

“Don’t forget about the bigger picture,” she said, hitching the basket against her hip. She tossed her long wild hair over her shoulders, giving him a coy smile.

“See you later, shinobi-san,” she winked. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

“Call me,” Shisui said dully and handed over a crumpled piece of paper. The flirtatious look on her face smoothed into solemnity for a brief second before she turned away, swaying her hips.

“Now that’s a fine ass honey,” a man observed as he drifted up to the dryer the woman just vacated, laundry sack casually slung over a shoulder. “You get her number?”

“I saw her first,” Shisui said and his eyes flickered red for a brief instant. “Right?”

“Who?” the man said blankly as he set his laundry down. “Are you talking to me?”

Shisui’s mouth thinned out into a flat line. “Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew.” He turned away, walking blindly towards the exit.

Just a little more time.

Shisui bowed his head.

 

* * *

 

At the sound of the morning bell, he shuddered awake and the ache in his head came back again. It was a round kind of pain, if he thought about it, big and crashing like the waves of the ocean he’d seen once on TV. But he didn’t like thinking about it much, about anything at all, because it would just make the pain worse.

Sleep was better.

He closed his eyes.

“You have to get up or they’ll take away your food again.” Something latched onto his shoulder and shook him hard.

He curled up tight into a ball and tried to ignore it.

“Hey!”

The blanket suddenly disappeared and cold air swept over his skin and made his teeth hurt, like the time he’d tried biting on aluminum foil.

“New kid!’”

He hissed angrily and swiped at the hand.

“You’ve got to get up, I know it sucks. But you’ve gotta start eating or they’ll take you away somewhere else. Somewhere bad.” Something warm cupped his face. “Alright?”

He cracked open his eyes, soft blurry shapes slowly coming into focus. It was a big kid’s face looking right at him, with strange white hair the color of snow.

“Good,” the big kid said and he smiled, extra big and wide. “Time for breakfast.”

For a brief moment, it was like having _him_ back again, even if the hair was all wrong and the big kid had brown eyes instead of black. He scrunched up his eyes tight so the tears wouldn’t leak out.

“Is he sick, nii-san?”

“He will be if he doesn’t get his butt out of bed,” the big kid grumbled. “Here, grab his arm, I’ll get the rest.”

He felt himself dragged out of bed-- he flailed wildly before his leg hit the cold concrete floor and he yelped, the crashing waves in his head nearly drowning out all the other noise.

“Aw, I thought I told you to grab his arm!”

“I did!”

He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and peered up blearily at the two boys standing above him. The other kid was smaller and had dark hair and black eyes and pale white skin, like his cousins. Like his family.

“Who are you guys?” he croaked.

“I’m number sixteen,” the big kid with the white hair grinned. “And this--” he jerked a thumb towards the dark haired boy. “This is my little brother. He’s number twenty two. What about you, new kid?”

“I’m--”

_You no longer have a name. Tools do not require them._

“I’m thirty six,” he said.

 

* * *

 

In the darkness, under the cover of the blankets, he told them stories of the world outside.

“Like on TV, there’s this show about samurai, ‘cept they’re all different colors and they have swords and stuff.”

“TV?” sixteen asked, curious. “I thought it was that box they show all those boring lessons and stuff on. Like how to sharpen your kunai and stuff like that.”

“That too,” thirty six said, waving his hands in the air. “But it’s like a box for videos and stuff and then every Saturday morning, a video comes on about these samurai guys.”

Twenty two gave the two of them a warning pinch. He was the one pretending to sleep like a boy while thirty six and sixteen pretended to be the blankets at his feet, talking excitedly. Tomorrow, it would be sixteen’s turn to sleep and twenty two’s turn to argue over the stories thirty six was telling.

“Sounds boring,” sixteen said and there was a brief scuffle as thirty six tried to punch him underneath the blankets.

“If it’s so boring then you can go back to sleep,” thirty six threatened.

“Aww I’m only kidding,” sixteen said and they quietened. “So, what about these samurai guys?”

“Well, they’re like warriors, only they don’t have chakra, they just have swords and they all have their own color. And the red one’s the leader. And they’re traveling throughout the world to fight evil monsters and save the world and bring honor back to their old country.”

“Huh,” sixteen said.

Twenty two slowly drifted to real sleep, lulled by the stories of the Super Sentai Samurai Warriors and their adventures in saving the world and protecting the peasantry. Just before the finals waves swept him away into darkness, thirty six told sixteen a different story, strange and scary enough to keep him anchored to this world.

“Do you remember your real name?”

“What?” For the first time in his life, twenty two heard the fear in sixteen’s voice.

“Not the numbers, but our real names,” thirty six persisted. “Like how the instructors have names like Iwato or Kazuhito.”

“I--”

“I’m sorry,” thirty six said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.

There was a long silence, long and deep enough that twenty two almost thought that they had all fallen asleep before sixteen finally spoke up.

“I don’t remember,” sixteen said quietly. “Only the number I had at the old place, before they brought us all here into this big building and renumbered us all. I was eight before and twenty two was fifty six. I don’t think he knows either. Maybe.” Sixteen sounded unsure.

“I know my real name,” thirty six said, so soft that twenty two almost couldn’t hear him at all.

“They’ll make you hurt for that!”

Twenty two could feel thirty six shifting around, hand brushing against his leg. “They took my ear away from me,” he whispered, fierce. “But they can’t take my name away.”

“You’re one of the dumbest, stupidest and bravest little kids I know.”

Twenty two silently agreed. He squirmed a little, wanting to know, but if nii-san wouldn’t ask--

“Can you tell me?”

Thirty six shivered. “Promise you won’t tell?”

“I promise,” sixteen swore.

“I am Uchiha Sasuke.”


	10. Chapter 10

It was easy to fall into a routine, even as some small, distant, part of him recoiled from the blood on his hands, dripping from his sword, dried in permanent brown stains on his boots. This, he realized, was the true benefit of the mask: not to strike fear or to conceal his identity from others, but rather to hide from his own self. He was just one of a hundred now, a faceless figure bent in shadow, with no conscience or conscious thought of his own. He considered the sharp profile of the laughing fox hanging from the hook by his bedside table, fangs bared, whiskers drawn in crimson and black swirls across the porcelain surface.

He had never really liked foxes.

Shisui slipped the mask on his face, pulled on his cloak, and went to work.

 

* * *

 

It was the absence of noise that woke him, more than anything else.

Thirty six stuck his head out of his bed, rubbing his eyes and restraining the urge to scratch at the bandage wrapped around his head. Around him, he could see all the other kids slowly wake up, some of them looking pale and sick like they were about to throw up, others looking more like they had to use to bathroom real bad.

Sixteen was sitting on top of his bed, legs crossed, quiet-like. Twenty two sat on the floor by his side, head tilted towards the ceiling.

No one made any noise and thirty six thought that was the weirdest thing of all, like all of them had the exact same lump in their throats, the tight feeling in their chests that made speaking impossible.

But he _had_ to.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice scratchy and hoarse, shattering the silence.

“Can’t you hear it?” Sixteen said, fingers wrapped tight together, like a monk making his devotions.

Thirty six didn’t really get it until twenty two spoke up finally. “There’s no morning bell.”

 

* * *

 

 

They lay in neat rows, six by six, on clean white tables with bright surgical lights chasing out all the shadows in the room, washing the color out of their cheeks. Thick black cables spidered across the room and lay attached to their heads, rippling with blue arcs of chakra that danced in time to thirty six steady heartbeats.

“Time, “ Danzou said slowly, thoughtfully, as he looked down at the laboratory spread beneath him, through the glass panes that separated the observatory and the room below, “is something that I always seem to be short of.”

Shisui said nothing. He was bent on one knee, masked face looking down at the floor. He could feel his own hot breath curl against his skin, trapped by the heavy porcelain weight of his mask. The eye holes of his mask were small, black strips of darkness obscuring the edges of his vision.

“I had plans for the boy, since perhaps even before his conception.” Danzou paused, thumb rubbing the wooden handle of his cane. “What better way to kill the father than with the son?”

He imagined Sasuke looking down at his father’s corpse, grinning, with the crimson red pinwheels spinning in his eyes and a kunai dangling from one small, boyish hand.

“But, in this way too, he will serve Konoha as well, reborn as a perfect soldier. His mind will be molded into something new, something better. Harder, stronger. The perfect tool.” Danzou lifted a hand up, and the masked agent below instantly straightened and saluted, his badger mask glinting with reflected light. He stood in the center of a giant array, seal characters spiraling out from around him in labyrinthine tangles before connecting with the long black chakra cables. He had long yellow hair, tied back in a practical queue, just visible from a gap in the hood of his cloak.

His hand began to fall as the agent brought his hands together, fingers twisting into seal signs--

“Release!” Shisui shouted, his eyes bleeding Sharingan red. He tore through all the careful illusions he had gathered, striking through all of the delicate chakra strings, and let go.

The agent shattered into a hundred different shards of reality, falling to the ground in a heap of technicolor lights. The laboratory plunged into darkness, lit only by the shimmering pile of shattered genjutsu on top of the seal array, before that too faded away into nothingness.

“Uchiha,” Danzou spat in a soft, deadly voice, all at once a curse and an invocation. “So, this is when you choose to betray me at last?” Fire roared to life from his hands, throwing the sharp planes of his face into sharp relief, casting strange shadows across the scars stretching over his cheek. The rafters of the ceiling caught aflame, shimmers of heat and waves of smoke rising up and around them in an intoxicating, heady combination. Behind them, the glass windows cracked in warning.

“Agent Shu?” Danzou continued in that low voice, perfectly controlled fury sublimated into lethality.

“Dead,” Shisui said, and unsheathed his blade. “As much as I sorrow for his loss, I could not-- _cannot_ allow this to happen. In the name of the Sandaime Hokage, upon his request and his command, I arrest you on highest charges of treason, murder and the endangerment of Konoha citizens.”

“Oh?” Danzou laughed, a terrible noise that rose from the hollow depths of his chest. “You dare accuse me of treason? Boy, what I am doing is for the good of the Village, to protect it from weakness and poison. You think I don’t know what your Elders are planning, what Hiruzen refuses to see?”

“Be that as it may,” Shisui said as steadily as he could. The sword never wavered in his hand. “That doesn’t justify your actions, Shimura Danzou. Will you comply with the law?”

“And you?” Danzou’s voice turned even quieter, harder. “Your hands are just as marked as I am, child. You are blind if you cannot see that he is using you as well, his own hidden sword in the darkness.”

“Be that as it may,” Shisui said again, his voice shaking with fear, with rage, with a hundred different frightening emotions, “but you hurt my cousin, you _bastard_.”

He lunged forward, chakra singing in his veins.

Danzou smiled and drew his hands together in a seal. “Now,” he said, and the room exploded.

 

* * *

 

Kakashi tugged open the shades of his window, letting the silver moonlight filter into his assigned room at the outpost. A laughing cat peered through the glass panes, whiskers like dark slashes across its smooth face. A hand, curled up into a fist, hovered over the glass.

Had it only been a month since Tenzou had knocked on his window that fateful night, white-faced and trembling with fear? Had it only been two months since Kakashi had died in the middle of a war-torn future and woken up in the scattered nightmares of his past? Had it only been ten years that wound backwards, like water spilling up through the gaps in his fingers and back into his cupped palms?

“Captain,” Tenzou whispered, his chakra flickering and curling in on itself. “Genma…”

Good men died, blood washed over the earth, and the world went on as it always did, time flowing endlessly forward, even here, in this impossible, improbable world.

Kakashi bent his head. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were gentle, if nothing else. His body was washed carefully, with soft cloths imbued with herbs and stitched with seals of purity. His hair was combed and braided into a neat queue, then tied with a traditional white ribbon. Finally, they tied a black armband around his arm, embroidered with a silver spiraling leaf, then laid his body onto an unrolled ceremonial sealing scroll, marked with black serpentine coils of symbols.

A medic, with a light touch, carefully signed _Shiranui Genma_ and bound his corpse to paper and ink, securing him for the last journey home.

Kakashi closed the door behind him as he left the morgue and stepped into the attached infirmary room. He stopped in front of an empty stasis chamber, watching the chakra infused water slowly drain through a grid in the floor, tubing laying limp and detached by the glass sides. A placard with Genma’s name, water-stained and wrinkled, still hung by the corner of the chamber.

“Sometimes,” Jiraiya said beside him, puffs of breath swirling around his mouth as he spoke, lips blue-tinged from the cold air, “the body just passes on anyway, organs shut down, and the cells die off, even with a support system in place.” He sighed meditatively, geta scraping on the tiled floor. “Perhaps it’s better that it ended this way.”

Kakashi observed the swirling vortex forming as the blood flecked water circled the drain. “He was too far past normal healing,” he said, quiet. “You don’t think maybe if Tsunade had been here…”

“No,” Jiraiya said, his voice almost unbearably kind. “Not even she could have brought him back.”

Kakashi felt something almost like hysterical laughter bubble up in his chest, choke the breath out of his lungs, squeeze tight around his heart like a vise. How could have had thought-- _dared_ to presume that ten years of experience, ten years of fucked up failure would have been anywhere near enough to fix his own mistakes in the past?

The past was never the problem.

It was always him.

He hadn’t been good enough, not now, not then, not even in the future with Pein standing over corpse and his students scattered across the remnants of the world, broken and shattered because he wasn’t enough, was never enough.

Sasuke was missing, Raidou was barely clinging to life, the Uchiha Massacre was growing more and more likely and now-- and now, perhaps worst of all, Genma was dead.

Kakashi tasted copper and salt on his tongue as something warm settled on his shoulder, chakra flowing from it in steady waves.

“Don’t you even think about collapsing on me, boy,” Jiraiya snapped, his voice sounding as if it came from a long distance. “Get your shit together.”

Kakashi dimly realized that he had bitten clean through his tongue, blood pooling in his mouth, staining the cracks of his teeth. Unsteadily, he dragged his tattered mask down and spat onto the floor. It splattered across the white tiles in jagged crimson drops.

Jiraiya’s hand pushed harder against his shoulder, guiding him towards a chair by the far end of the room. Kakashi followed almost helplessly, his limbs moving of their own accord. He couldn’t stop looking at the nearly empty stasis chamber, at Genma’s name. He sank into the chair at another nudge, heady waves of chakra still flowing through him from Jiraiya’s steady, unwavering touch.

“Kakashi.”

 _Shiranui Genma_.

“What is your name, rank and registration number, soldier?”

“Hatake Kakashi, jounin of Konoha, registration 009720,” Kakashi said automatically, the familiar, well-worn words spilling out from him.

“At least you’re not catatonic,” Jiraiya said, voice just a touch wry. He knelt down, his mane of spiky gray hair filling up Kakashi’s entire vision. The stasis chamber and its attached placard slipped out of view, obscured by the bulk of Jiraiya’s chest and his massive chakra presence, lurking in his bones like a banked fire.

“I’ve only seen you like this once before, Kakashi, and it was just yesterday for a few seconds, right before you went on a cold-blooded rampage and nearly murdered the prisoner.” Jiraiya’s chakra flow slowed to a trickle, but Kakashi could feel it surging through his parched chakra coils, fire affinity calling to fire.

“I need you to help me understand, Kakashi, because I don’t know how to reconcile this man sitting before me and the one I saw a few months ago at the festival. You look the same. You wear the same blacks, the same ANBU armor. But I swear to the heavens and the Sage of Six Paths, you’re not the same person. What changed? What’s going on right now?”

How strange, Kakashi thought slowly, that he had been to this man’s funeral and now Jiraiya was alive; how strange, that Genma had been alive and now he would have a funeral in this mixed up, fucked up hell of a past.

“I was supposed to save them,” Kakashi said dully. “My kids, my pack, my team. I couldn’t. I can’t, because I’m not good enough.”

Pain cracked like a whip across his cheek, burning bright like a lightning strike. “I’ve already seen one Hatake walk down this path and that’s one too many. Don’t you dare follow your father into the darkness,” Jiraiya said coldly, his hand still raised from slapping Kakashi’s cheek. “You can’t blame yourself for events out of your damned control, brat. Shiranui died a good death, a soldier’s death in service to the Village.”

A white hot fury burned the fog out of Kakashi’s mind, lent his leaden limbs sudden energy. “You don’t understand!”

“You’re damned right I don’t,” Jiraiya shot back. “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve had a teammate die on you, but it is the first time I’ve seen you lose it like this. What’s different, this time? Why is it fucking you up like this?”

“Because it’s not just Genma-- it’s Sasuke, it’s Naruto and Sakura, and the whole damned Uchiha clan. It’s Danzou and ROOT and Akatsuki,” Kakashi spit furiously. “I came back to try and save my pack and all I’ve done is just make everything worse.”

Jiraiya’s mouth didn’t quite close.

“I need you to untangle that for me,” he said, after a long moment. “How is Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto of all people involved in all of this? _And_ Fugaku’s missing son. And what’s all this about Danzou and an Aka-whatever? You coming back?”

The transfer, or time travel or whatever the hell Kakashi was supposed to call this-- it had never really been a secret, only difficult to explain. It had been easier instead to assume the role of his younger self, to pretend to be something other than he truly was and then make his own quiet moves to change the future.

In the shattered remnants of his failed plans, Kakashi didn’t know quite what to say.

“You’re really doing a splending job of convincing me you haven’t gone completely off your rocker,” Jiraiya said, a touch of a half-hearted smile curving his mouth.

“It’s complicated,” Kakashi said finally. “And I’m not sure if you really will believe me anyway.”

“ _Something_ would be better than you just staring at me like this,” Jiraiya said, raking his hand through his thick curls. “Or you going all quiet again,” he added in a very soft voice.

“I…” Kakashi stopped and cleared his throat. “I am actually thirty years old. Somehow, I’ve managed to travel back in time and enter my younger, twenty year old body.”

Jiraiya choked.

“From my own personal recollection, in one year’s time, Uchiha Itachi will murder every single member of his clan, save his brother, Uchiha Sasuke, in order to protect the village from a coup engineered by his clan. In six years time, when I was, or will be, twenty six, I was assigned a genin team consisting of Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto and Haruno Sakura. The team subsequently fell apart due to my own inadequacies,” Kakashi said, letting his voice fall into the rhythmic cadences he normally used to give reports, distant and detached from the circumstances.

“Sasuke betrayed the village to join with Orochimaru and later killed his brother and made several attempts on the his former teammates’ lives, and mine. An organization composed of missing-nin also made several attempts on Naruto’s life and on the Village in order to extract the Kyuubi’s chakra. The head of this organization, known as Akatsuki, eventually breached Konoha’s walls and invaded the Village. I died during the battle and found myself waking up, here, ten years in the past.”

Silence wound tight between the two of them, straining towards a breaking point.

“So,” Jiraiya said, his brow deeply furrowed, clearly struggling to absorb Kakashi’s words. “That’s why you flew off the handle when I reported Sasuke’s disappearance. And an _invasion_ of Konoha, of all the possibilities...” His voice trailed off, his face settling into an unreadable mask.

Kakashi felt a sudden exhaustion wash through him, the furious, frustrated anger from before quickly dissipating. He was tired to the bone, weary, and above all, frightened of what the unknown future might still bring.

“I can definitely see why you thought I wouldn’t-- why I _don’t_ believe you, Kakashi. Time travel?” Jiraiya shook his head. “Talking sage toads and prophecies, I can do,” he muttered. “But this stuff?” He blew out a rough breath.

“I can show you your funeral,” Kakashi said.

Jiraiya stilled.

With heavy, numb fingers, Kakashi drew up the borrowed chakra within him, Jiraiya’s own chakra, and wove an illusion made of memories and old dreams.

“Watch,” he said and opened Obito’s eye to let Jiraiya see.

 

* * *

 

Even without Obito’s eye to etch it into memory, Kakashi could still remember the way his formal blacks felt on his skin, how they smelled of mothballs and scented detergent. It was a hot, humid summer morning, with only a few clouds in the sky. It was a beautiful day.

A framed picture of Jiraiya lay in front of the Memorial, lined with black ribbons; here was a much more familiar face than the living man standing beside him, a little older, with deeper wrinkles and laugh lines.

Next to him, Jiraiya swore softly underneath his breath.

The illusion shifted and changed, revealing Naruto’s bent back, the heaps of chrysanthemums laid in a mound in front of the Memorial.

“He looks just like Minato,” Jiraiya said haltingly.

“You took him on as your apprentice, later on,” Kakashi gestured toward the two squat frogs sitting by Naruto’s side. “He learned how to summon toads, among other things.”

“Fukasaku and Shima!” Jiraiya started, his face growing pale underneath his deep brown tan. “There’s no way you’ve ever seen them before. This is all just an illusion, not…”

“A memory,” Kakashi finished for him and let the strands of chakra go. Reality rippled into place around them, the hot summer day fading away to reveal the sterile white walls of the outpost infirmary.

Jiraiya was on his knees in front of him, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. At any other time, the look on his face might have almost been funny.

Now, all Kakashi could feel was fear.

“Now you see what’s really at stake,” Kakashi said, his voice slow and bone weary. “Sasuke’s missing and I know that Danzou is involved in this whole mess, instigating and maneuvering himself into power. We’re maybe days away from the Massacre happening again.” His head sank into his palms, Obito’s eye throbbing endlessly behind his battered Konoha band.

“I’m still not exactly sure what’s going on, but I know this.” Something hard and solid collided with Kakashi’s skull. Blue and white stars shot across Kakashi’s vision as Jiraiya ground his fist against his head.

“You _idiot_ ,” Jiraiya said, but his gentle tone was at odds with his words and actions.

Kakashi flinched, too stunned to do anything more than blink stupidly at Jiraiya’s face.

“Let me guess, this is the first time you’ve told anyone about this thing?”

Kakashi nodded dumbly.

“And let me make another educated guess: you thought you could handle this all by yourself, huh?”

This time it was Kakashi’s turn to look at the other man, his mouth ajar.

“Not your team, your ANBU squad, not me and definitely not the old man Hokage, right?” Jiraiya sighed, his black eyes full of a warmth that Kakashi couldn’t understand, his thoughts fracturing and spinning into a thousand incomprehensible fragments.

“Have you ever thought,” Jiraiya continued in that same tone, “that we might even want to help you out? You don’t have to solve all the problems, save the entire world all by yourself.”

His fist flattened out, his hand now ruffling Kakashi’s spiky silver hair as if Kakashi were a boy again, to chide and lecture.

“Teamwork,” Jiraiya said simply.

Kakashi’s eye began to prickle with heat as he closed it; underneath his Konoha headband, Obito’s eye began to weep.

“Now,” Jiraiya said fiercely, “let’s figure out how to get back home and kick some asses.”

 

* * *

 

The Sharingan saw the world shattering moments before it truly happened, enough time for Shisui to throw every ounce of chakra he had into the most important body flicker of his life. With the Sharingan, he saw Danzou mouth something seconds before his lips even moved, catching the minute muscle movements of his face, projecting and evaluating and calculating in less than a heartbeat’s moment.

He passed by Danzou’s fleetingly open torso and crashed through the glass pane separating the observation room and the laboratory just as the ceiling began to tremble and cracks began to appear in the earth.

“Now,” Danzou smiled, and the room exploded, stone and fire raining from the heavens as the ceilings and the walls of the entire building began to collapse in on themselves.

Shisui dropped his sword mid-jump and his hands blurred through half a dozen seals dizzyingly fast, pouring everything he had into the jutsu.

Sasuke’s face looked up him in peaceful, drugged sleep, as debris rained down around him and all of the other children, lying as still as corpses in the collapsing lab. _I’m here, cousin, I’m here_ , Shisui wanted to shout, even as his lungs filled with smoke and ash.

He landed on the floor and slammed his hands down onto the ground.

The laboratory erupted as blue waves of chakra rippled out from the epicenter of his hands, waves of earth reaching up and around to create a perfect dome to shield the children. A perfect darkness fell inside the room. Shisui flinched as he felt the ground beneath and around him rumble and shake as the explosion continued on outside of the dome, bits of buildings and chakra fire raining down onto his construct.

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he fueled even more energy into the jutsu. It would have been easier, much easier, just to protect Sasuke, to spirit him out of this building and run like hell for safety.

Shisui looked over at the rows and rows of sleeping children, his Sharingan detecting thirty six beating hearts, thirty six flowing chakra signatures lighting up the dark earthen dome with a beautiful luminescence that only the Sharingan could see.

There was no way he could leave all of them behind.

Distracted, he stretched his senses to cover the entire room, checking over the integrity of his construct, the lives of his thirty six little charges. By the time he noticed the tiny chakra signature at the southern section of the dome, it was too late.

It collapsed open with an ugly sound, letting a fiery light into the dome and casting long shadows over quiet, sleeping faces. The sound of falling rocks grew louder, great slabs of concrete cracking open the earth and causing a hundred little small tremors every moment.

Danzou stooped a little to step into the gap and into the broken dome, wielding Shisui’s sword. A ROOT shadow hovered at his heels, chakra-hardened blades in their hands.

“You disappoint me, Uchiha,” Danzou said, his craggy face set into an unreadable mask. “I rather expected more from you than this.”

Shisui spat onto the ground in answer.

“Well,” Danzou said, unruffled. “That’s what you get for allowing your emotions and morals to cloud your mind and your duty. If you’d been smarter about this and abandoned the children, you most likely would have been able to escape with your life.”

“Fuck you,” Shisui said, quiet.

“Shi,” Danzou said, no longer smiling. “Finish him, but leave the eyes intact. I want to harvest them.”

The shadow detached itself from Danzou’s heels and leapt at Shisui, blades dancing wickedly with reflected firelight. Shisui looked up at the cloaked figure, the sliver of white mask visible in the dim light, and waited for the right moment.

Touch was the simplest, easiest way for genjutsu to take hold in the subject; sound was tricky, required extreme focus, and was notoriously inefficient considering the chakra use; eyesight was unreliable and only best worked when in combination with doujutsu, and even then, results were uncertain with the Sharingan.

Shisui needed only his own chakra.

The ROOT agent jumped in the air and towards Shisui, blue flickers of light blurring in the air as the dual blades wove a dangerous steel web. Shisui lifted one hand, the other still linked to the construct through the ground, and made one half-seal.

The shadowed figure fell onto the ground like a rock, blades skittering onto the ground and landing with a clatter in front of Danzou’s feet.

Shisui staggered as his chakra levels grew dangerously low, lost to the Sharingan, the costly construct he was maintaining and struggling to rebuild with every bombardment, and now the genjutsu to dispose of the agent.

Danzou looked down distastefully at the ground and the crumpled figure of his tool. “Filth,” he said in a low voice.

Shisui struggled to control his hard breathing, his hair now completely drenched in sweat and plastered to his scalp. “He deserved a better master than you,” he said, his free hand clenched into a tight, white-knuckled fist. At least it was a quick, painless death; Shisui had used an illusion that heightened the fear and adrenaline of the individual to a lethal level in less than a heartbeat’s span. The heart usually collapsed within a few seconds.

“I’ve heard rumours of your abilities.” Danzou stepped forward slowly, his gait even and strong even without the use of a cane. Or perhaps, Shisui slowly realized, his thoughts muddled by chakra exhaustion, Danzou had never needed it in the first place. “But to see proof of it in person is quite different.”

He lifted the sword in the air, pointing it steadily at Shisui’s heart. “All I do, I do for Konoha,” he said, his voice solemn, and let the sword drop.

Shisui tensed and lifted his free hand into another half seal, gathering the remnants of his chakra within himself to prepare one final illusion.

Danzou stepped forward and--

Shisui watched in horror as the Sharingan read Danzou’s movements towards Sasuke’s table, his body anchored to the ground and to the dome construct he was sustaining. Shisui wasted precious seconds looking over at the other children, the Sharingan registering the weak flow of their chakra, then back over to Danzou’s advancing figure, Shisui’s own sword growing closer and closer to Sasuke’s heart.

If he left his spot, the dome would collapse, unable to withstand the force of the collapsing building without his constant chakra support. The children would die, some crushed, others slowly suffocating in whatever small pockets of air that would form.

If he didn’t, Sasuke would die.

Deep down, Shisui knew he had already made the decision, long before this moment ever came to pass.

He tore his hands up from the ground and threw himself into one last body flicker. Around him, the dome groaned as it slowly began collapsing.

The sword passed through Shisui’s ribs, scraping against bone and punching through his lungs. Shisui doubled over Sasuke’s body, his back curved over the little boy’s face, as he coughed blood onto the floor.

“Useless boy,” Danzou said softly. “You’ve always been predictable.”

Shisui grinned up at him, flecks of bloody foam ringing his bruised mouth. “Yeah?” he said hoarsely.

“Surprise, motherfucker,” Shisui laughed. The dome above them stopped trembling and began glowing a powerful, blinding iridescent blue, stone quickly knitting back together in one cohesive whole.

Danzou ripped the sword out viciously and Shisui nearly blacked out from the pain, blood bubbling up in his throat and his chest as he felt one lung slowly collapse.

“How did you--?!” Danzou roared wildly.

Stars and dots swam in Shisui’s vision as he gasped desperately for air. “Did you really think that I would attack you without alerting someone for backup?” he wheezed. “The cavalry’s finally arrived, asshole. You better run now if you don’t want to get your ass caught.”

Even with the Sharingan he could barely even see Danzou’s outline anymore; distantly, Shisui thought it must be the blood loss, the pain and maybe even oxygen deprivation robbing him of sight. Even more distantly, Shisui thought he might be dying.

“Your eyes, at least I can have your _eyes_ \--”

Shisui managed a shaky grin as he instinctively palmed a kunai in hand from an arm holster, as easy and familiar to him as breathing once had been.

“No,” Shisui said, and blinded himself.

 

* * *

 

The world, Shisui dreamed, was on fire. Or perhaps it _was_ fire-- Shisui found that he could no longer care about the difference.

“Amaterasu of the Heavens, answer my prayers, please, _damn it_ , Shisui wake up, please, Shisui--!!”

Ah, Shisui thought. Perhaps there was one last thing in the world he did care about after all.

“Itachi,” he whispered, lifting a hand up to his cousin’s face.

“Oh, Shisui, your _eyes_ ,” Itachi wept. Shisui could feel the hot salty tears trickling down his little cousin’s face.

“Shh,” Shisui comforted him, tracing his thumb over Itachi’s jaw. “Sasuke?”

“Safe, he’s safe, they’re all of them safe,” Itachi said, his voice shaking. “All thirty six of them, Shisui, you big damn hero.”

“Good, good,” Shisui sighed and his hand dropped. It was as if in that one breath all the energy in his body had suddenly left him.

“Kurenai…” Shisui searched his fleeting thoughts for what he once had thought important, but now seemed lost in the void. “She...has the intel.” Faded memories of a red-eyed, wild-haired woman at a laundromat briefly came to mind.

“Yuuhi Kurenai?” Itachi’s voice grew harder and sharper. “She was your handler for the mission?”

Itachi had always been clever...

“‘m sorry, Itachi,” he finally said, his voice growing fainter and fainter as he struggled to hold on long enough. “F’r leaving you...like...this…”

Shisui could barely feel the tears falling down from Itachi’s face and onto his own.

“...It’s alright,” Itachi said. “It’s alright, just hang on for me, okay? We’re on our way to the hospital, just hang on, damn it. Don’t _leave_ me.”

Shisui smiled, one last time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been planning iterations of this chapter (and the various plotpoints contained therein) for about two and a half years now, so it's a little weird and a lot of fun to finally see it written and published in its final form.
> 
> If you've been here since then: thank you. It means a lot. And if you're a new reader, welcome! Updates may be slow, but I do intend on seeing this through to the end, which may be a lot closer than you might think...


	11. Chapter 11

Officially, it was just the beginning of another day in the Uchiha compound, dawn’s morning light casting playful shadows across the rice paper screens. Mikoto swept into the main hall with soft, careful steps, carrying a basket of old, dull kunai against her hip, a bag full of sharpening stones in her other hand. There was a subtle ripple in the room as dark heads tilted up at her entrance, countless pairs of steady black eyes flicking up to meet her own. Uchiha eyes.

Mikoto nodded, once, and everyone looked back down again, the constant thrum of scraping metal continuing on, unceasing, broken only by the sharp, sudden cry of a hungry infant demanding to be fed.

“Sister, dear, it looks as if you’ve brought the entire armory with you,” came the low, teasing voice, and Mikoto’s mouth curved up in a small grin.

“Not quite,” Mikoto said, her eyes flitting over to the basket her sister held against her chest, nearly identical to her own, “as much as you, I think, Kiyoko.”

Kiyoko smiled back ruefully, and if it was a touch strained, well, Mikoto could only guess it was no worse than her own. “I’ve been putting it off,” she said simply, “for a day like this.” 

Mikoto looked across the hall, where mothers skillfully sharpened kunai with deft hands, babes strapped to their backs, and grandmothers stitched layers of silk steel into armor with nothing more than a single string of chakra and the Sharingan gleaming in their eyes. The women spoke in cool, low voices, about the weather, the children, about anything but the taut tension running through the room, the teetering calm balancing on the knife’s edge, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“Shall we sit? There’s still some room by the doors to the garden,” Kiyoko said. She gestured over to the eastern side of the hall, rice paper screens tucked away to let the morning light in. Mikoto nodded and followed her sister, passing through clusters of women, their chakra signatures flickering in response to hers in silent support.

 _We know, we know, we know,_ Mikoto read, in their dark, glittering eyes, so much like her own. Like Sasuke’s.

Mikoto couldn’t help but turn away, focusing steadily on the shadow her sister cast in front of her, until they reached the other side. Kiyoko settled herself onto a soft cushion, impatiently brushing aside the wild dark curls of hair that fell in her eyes, coming loose from the messy bun on the top of her head.

“One of these days, I’m definitely going to cut it.”

“You’ve been saying that since you were seven,” Mikoto said absently, pulling a stone out from the cloth bag and picking up a kunai with the other. She held it up to the light, noticing the deep knicks running down the center, the handle still wet with oil. It was one of Itachi’s she’d found while going through his hamper the other day, picking out all the blood-stained clothes to wash separately.

“I’m really going to do it this time,” Kiyoko laughed, as if she didn’t quite believe herself either. She held a wickedly sharp dagger in her hand, working on giving it an even keener edge. “And did you know, Shisui’s been saying he wants to grow it out too, as if his hair doesn’t give him enough trouble as it is.”

There was a slight, almost unnoticeable hitch after Shisui’s name, small enough that Mikoto would never have caught it, if she hadn’t felt the same hitch in her own throat every time she thought of her own boys.

“He’d look good with long hair,” Mikoto said, clearing her throat. “Itachi’s had his hair long for years now, I barely remember what he looked like when it was still short.”

The two of them fell silent, the conversation suddenly petering out.

Mikoto looked over at Kiyoko’s round face, catching the gray hairs streaked through her hair, the crows’ feet wrinkling at the corners of her eyes, and wondered how it had come to this, how the two of them sat in silence as they sent their boys to fight in endless, empty wars, and waited to lose them.

Nearly a month ago, Sasuke disappeared.

Three weeks ago, Shisui took on a faceless mask and slipped into the shadows.

Last night, Itachi strapped on his bone-white armor, settled his black ANBU cloak over his shoulders, and slipped through the windows into the night, following the fluttering dark wings of the messenger hawk. 

Today, the Elders would meet for one last time, and decide. She left Fugaku sitting alone at the kitchen table, looking blankly over a blood-bound scroll that called for strength and fire and another endless, empty war to fill with the blood of Uchiha children. 

Mikoto breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over her in suffocating waves. One more day, one more breath, one more-- 

Chakra flared, wild and bright, and instantly the entire room rose to their feet as one, blades in hand. Sharingan glittered in soft, round faces and harsh, wrinkled ones, tomoe swirling as intent swelled up in the room, to defend, to protect, to kill.

Mikoto rose up slowly, the last one to do so, holding Itachi’s half-sharpened kunai in her hand. It couldn’t have-- was it--

The chakra signature, _Fugaku’s_ chakra signature flared again, and suddenly the rice screen leading to the entrance ripped open violently, paper torn from the force of it. Fugaku staggered through, his gaunt face set in stone.

Mikoto’s heart clenched, felt the bile rise up in her throat, as the room began to gently spin around her.

“They found him. He’s alive. He’s in the hospital.”

Itachi’s old kunai landed on the tatami mats with a dull thunk. Mikoto looked down at her hands, unseeing. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive--

A warm arm wrapped around her shoulders and Mikoto looked up --when had she fallen to the floor, she thought distantly-- to see Itachi’s bloodied face peering down at her tiredly, Fugaku standing above his shoulder, tears falling silently down his face in echo. “I’m sorry, Mother,” he said, gentle. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” He closed his eyes, his whole body trembling. “I couldn’t even get Danzou, he’d disappeared by the time we got there.”

Mikoto raised a shaking hand to wipe the tears dripping steadily down his nose and darkening the front of her apron, leaving wet, round spots. “My dear, dear boy,” she wept, hugging him close. Itachi hugged her back tightly, still clad in armor, reeking of sweat and blood and _life_ , her boys were _alive_.

There was a distinctive clink as Itachi moved, pulling away from her hug after a long moment,  inexplicably. Mikoto watched in bewilderment as Itachi turned toward Kiyoko, her confusion mirrored in her sister’s face.

Fugaku lowered his head, his hand coming to rest gently on Mikoto’s shoulder, his body radiating a familiar, comforting warmth.

“Aunt Kiyoko,” Itachi bowed deeply. Too deeply.

Kiyoko blinked, slowly, as her face became utterly still, the confusion settling into emptiness.

“He saved Sasuke’s life,” Itachi said, slowly, and the taut, teetering tension that filled the room snapped. Itachi held his two worn hands out, fingers unfolding to reveal Shisui’s dogtags. 

The room was entirely silent except for a subtle _drip, drip, drip_ and Mikoto slowly realized that it was the sound of blood slowly falling onto the tatami mats. Her sister’s blood. She still held the dagger she’d been working on, the just-sharpened edge of the blade digging into the meaty flesh of her palm. 

“I’m sorry,” Itachi wept, eyes flickering from red to black and back again through glittering tears as Kiyoko’s blood soaked the floor. 

Outside, the birds began to stir.

 

* * *

 

 

Six ANBU guards stood by the entryway to the ward, masked faces impassive as Fugaku came to a stop.

“Identification,” the one in the tiger mask spoke, cloaked in Captain’s white. He held a black scroll in hand and opened it up silently. 

Fugaku bit his thumb and pressed his bloody thumbprint against the thin black rice paper, the mark flaring a sudden bright blue before subsiding. The ANBU operative nodded, and stepped aside, the doors swinging open to let Fugaku, and only Fugaku through. The doors swung shut behind him, instantly cutting off all sound, though he knew Mikoto was going through the same process behind him.

Ahead of him lay another set of double doors without any handles or hinges. Fugaku blinked once, letting the Sharingan bleed through his eyes, and caught sight of the massively complex seal workings pulsating with chakra on the walls of the small vestibule. They flared three times in quick succession and Fugaku felt something quite cold sink deep in his chakra coils, the sensation fading away as quickly as it appeared.

The doors ahead of him swung silently inward as if on some unseen signal and Fugaku stepped into the S Class Ward of Konoha General.

A medic stood waiting by the hallway, scribbling something onto a clipboard in hand. Her head jerked up as Fugaku approached, dark circles even more prominent underneath the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“Uchiha Fugaku-dono,” she said archly, back straightening a little as she flicked her cold white eyes at him.

“Hyuuga-sensei,” Fugaku said, his voice not quite chilly. 

Behind him the doors swung open again, revealing Mikoto’s pale face as she stepped behind him. Her eyes widened, very slightly, as she caught sight of the Hyuuga medic, before she bowed her head politely.

“Sensei,” she murmured.

“Uchiha-dono,” Hyuuga-sensei returned, inclining her head a fraction of a degree in return. “Welcome. I trust you’ve both passed through the cleansing safely?”

“The seals?” Fugaku asked.

Hyuuga-sensei nodded. “They’re designed to strip you of any external chakra devices like scrolls or bombs and kill electrical devices such as radios or even watches,” she explained and started down the long, endless hallway, doors utterly unmarked and unremarkable, and without a single sign hanging in place. Corridors branched off the main hallway at irregular intervals, each looking exactly the same as the other. Hyuuga-sensei strode forward with confidence, though Fugaku carefully kept track of each turn she took, knowing that Mikoto did the same at his side.

“Security precautions,” she said drily, “as I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Fugaku grunted, thinking of Danzou’s sudden disappearance. The bastard was out there _somewhere_ and no doubt hungry for vengeance.

She came to an abrupt stop in front of a blank door, and Fugaku nearly ran into her back, swearing silently.

“This one,” Hyuuga-sensei said. “He’s in here.”

Hyuuga-sensei knocked once, sharply, then pressed her palm flat against the surface of the door. It rippled briefly, taking on the shape of her hand print, before it swung open silently, revealing one very small boy sleeping in one very large hospital bed.

Fugaku suddenly found himself unable to speak. 

Mikoto gasped, softly, as she slipped around Fugaku’s unmoving body, darting into the room. Itachi, sitting next to the bed in a folding chair, rose to his feet slowly, uncharacteristically blinking back a long yawn. 

“Mother, Father,” he bowed, stiffly, and Fugaku suddenly wondered if Itachi had slept at all since the Hokage’s hawk had come for him last night. The thought gave his strength back to him as he forced himself into the room, heading for his eldest son. 

“Father,” Itachi said, eyes widening. “Are you--” 

Fugaku caught Itachi around the shoulders in a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of Itachi’s head. How long before he would no longer be able to do this? Fugaku squeezed even tighter. 

“You did well, my son,” he said, and he felt Itachi stiffen in his arms. 

“I,” Itachi choked out, his breath hot against the silk of Fugaku’s stiff kimono top. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said over and over again in a tight, miserable voice. “It wasn’t enough, I couldn’t save him.” 

Fugaku drew back sharply, looking down at Itachi’s weary, heart-sick face. “Don’t demean his choice,” he said, quiet. 

“But--” 

“Shisui gave his life to save Sasuke’s,” and Fugaku couldn’t help the weakness in his voice as he spoke Sasuke’s name. “He chose to do so and I grieve for it every moment of the day. But I respect it. No one forced his hand. He sacrificed himself of his own free will, for Sasuke. And for you.” 

Itachi’s eyes flickered again, black spinning into red, and for a startling moment Fugaku caught sight of what appeared to be pinwheels, before his eyes settled back. “And that too doesn’t mean you didn’t do enough. The two of you gave so much--” Fugaku’s damned voice choked up again and Fugaku couldn’t but look away, only for his gaze to fall upon Sasuke’s peacefully sleeping face. 

Damn. Damn it all to hell.

Fugaku stiffened as he felt Itachi’s arms slowly wrap around Fugaku’s waist as he hugged back, head pressed against Fugaku’s chest as if he were a little boy once more. Fugaku slowly relaxed and returned the hug, letting his hand rest on the back of Itachi’s neck. 

Mikoto looked up at him with wet eyes, one hand clenched tight around Sasuke’s limp wrist. 

“We’ve put him in an induced healing coma,” Hyuuga-sensei spoke up from behind him and if Fugaku were a lesser man, he would have flinched. Instead, he turned his head to the side and gave the medic a cool look.

“Explain.”

“To put it simply, he’s been through some extreme stress these past few weeks. His body needs to heal and so does his mind. Once we finish evaluating and treating his physical state, we’ll begin exploring his mental state with Yamanaka-sensei.” Hyuuga-sensei tilted her head, arms crossed over her chest. 

There was a long pause and then: “Will he be alright?” Mikoto asked quietly, her eyes never leaving Sasuke’s face.

Hyuuga-sensei hesitated and blinked, her white eyes unreadable. “I can’t promise anything,” she said carefully. “But.” 

“But?” Mikoto prompted again, her voice a touch stronger. 

“He’s an Uchiha,” Hyuuga-sensei smiled thinly. “I highly suspect he’ll pull through well enough.” 

Fugaku reached out with a trembling hand, the other still encircling Itachi, and brushed a curl of Sasuke’s hair back, the bandage encircling his head stark against the pallor of his skin. Sasuke’s eyes fluttered with the movement, his chest rising and falling with every breath. 

Alive. 

Fugaku let the Sharingan bleed through his eyes and tracked Sasuke’s breathing, the subdued flicker of his underdeveloped chakra signature, in the present and the almost-future. 

Alive, alive, alive in every single moment. 

There was a quick knock at the door, and the same ripple as before, before the door swung open, revealing another medic with long yellow hair wrapped up in a bun. He was flanked by an ANBU operative, the same one in the Tiger mask guarding the entrance to the ward. 

“Yamanaka-sensei,” Hyuuga-sensei said sharply. 

Yamanaka looked as apologetic as a Yamanaka could look, which meant it was deeply insincere. “Sorry, Hitoka-san, but he insisted.” 

Tiger mask inclined his head. “My apologies,” he said, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask, tone entirely bland. “But the Hokage insists.” 

Fugaku was about to open his mouth and let the ANBU operative know where exactly the Hokage could stuff his message, but Tiger mask continued.

“A Tribunal has been called. The Hokage requests and requires the full presence of the Council.” 

Fugaku shut his mouth with a sharp click. Itachi pulled away from Fugaku and towards the ANBU operative, his chakra signature rippling with intent. 

“On what matter?” Itachi asked urgently, his body pulling in tight, as if he were recoiling from a blow. 

“On the matter of high treason, murder, and the endangerment of Konoha citizens committed by Shimura Danzou, he will be judged in absentia.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was a room buried deep underneath the Mountain where the walls were made entirely of living wood, chakra pulsating in every plank, fiber, and cell. The Shodai had built the room himself with his own hands, coaxing dust to life, filling the emptiness with an impossible, improbably living thing, where no sunlight would ever enter. 

The Sandaime settled at the head of the long table that now filled the expanse of the room that the Shodai built for Uzumaki Mito when the time came to strengthen the seal containing the Kyuubi. The walls were imbued with strength, clarity, and most importantly, secrecy. 

One by one, the room slowly filled as ANBU operatives guided each member of the Council into the room, until every seat at the table was filled but two: Danzou’s and Hatake’s. 

“I appreciate your attendance this evening,” the Sandaime began gravely, folding his hands together on his lap. “As many of you may recall, this is the first Tribunal called since the matter of Orochimaru ten years ago.”

Clan Heads and Councilmembers shifted in their seats, the uncomfortable tension in the room ratcheting up even more.

“We are here today to pass judgement on the matter of Shimura Danzou’s treason against the Village Hidden in the Leaves, as well his murder and endangerment of protected Konoha citizens, in absentia. If there any objections, state them now.”

The room was deathly silent. Not a single member stirred. 

“Very well. We will begin with the full list of charges.” The Sandaime gestured over to Homura, who gave him a deeply unhappy look, before clearing his throat and reading aloud from the scroll that appeared before him. 

The Sandaime leaned back in his seat, considering the immovable faces set before him, watching them watch him. Shikaku’s eyebrow went up, slightly, and the Sandaime very carefully did not respond at all. 

Homura concluded with a cough and a long drink of water provided by a silently helpful ANBU guard standing behind his chair. There was one positioned behind every chair, in a ready position.

“Objections?”

There were none. 

“Very well,” the Sandaime nodded. “Then we will move forward to the evidence.” He made a subtle gesture and the ANBU guard standing behind his own chair, moved forward with a bundle of scrolls she placed on the table.

“The first exhibit.”

The Sandaime presented the very first piece of evidence he’d acquired, years and years and years ago, not long after that last Tribunal in this room. 

“These are reports detailing the inventory of Orochimaru’s hidden laboratory in the sewers,” the Sandaime said quietly, tapping the first scroll. Duplicates appeared in front of every seat, each marked with a glowing chakra number, certifying it as a legitimate copy. “Evidence that Danzou deliberately falsified the reports and hid a large amount of illegal laboratory equipment and the results of Orochimaru’s experiments for his own purposes.” There was a rustle of paper as Clan Heads and Councilmembers unseals the scrolls with bloody thumbprints. 

And so it went on. 

Falsified death certificates from orphanages in order to recruit children to his cause. Funds diverted from the Orphans and Widows Trust in order buy tools and equipment. The transformation of Orochimaru’s old laboratory, hidden in the sewers, deep amongst the roots of the old trees that anchored Konoha, into what appeared to be Danzou’s base of operations. ROOT HQ. 

The Sandaime hand paused over one scroll, remembering Shisui’s final promise. _I’ll end this, one way or another._ And so he had, the Sandaime thought sadly. 

“This report is compiled by intelligence gathered by a special operative who infiltrated ROOT,” the Sandaime began. Shisui had gathered it and Kurenai had pieced it all together into a coherent report, detailing ROOT’s movements, its base of operations, its size, safe houses, educational facilities training the young ROOT recruits, and weapons caches located all over the Village and beyond. 

“Which leads us to this final, precipitating event.” 

The Sandaime pulled the last scroll towards himself. He unsealed it open and swiped his bloody thumb again on the flat rice paper. There was a puff of displaced astral smoke as a small plain white plastic box with an ordinary containment seal appeared on the table. It was strangely cold. The Sandaime noticed Fugaku closed his eyes and breathe in deeply, unsteadily. 

It opened with a touch of his finger. Plumes of condensation arose in the air as the box unveiled a small, shriveled piece of flesh. A small child’s ear, still wet with clotted blood, perfectly preserved since it had been placed there a few weeks prior. 

“Uchiha Sasuke disappeared three week and four days ago; this parcel was delivered to Uchiha Fugaku’s house the night of. It is confirmed to be Sasuke’s ear, thanks to independent genetic testing performed by an impartial third party,” the Sandaime said quietly. “Uchiha Sasuke was rescued last night, along with thirty five other individuals, all under the age of ten, in ROOT’s care. Shimura Danzou was found on site, intending on reeducating the children with the use of Yamanaka techniques." 

Down the far end of the table, Inoichi looked sick, his expression mirrored in varying degrees by each member of the room, save for Fugaku’s dull face, his eyes flat and unseeing in what the Sandaime knew was actually blinding rage.

“Operatives engaged with Shimura Danzou, but he quickly disappeared, killing one and wounding several others. As of ten minutes ago, he is still considered missing. Since his disappearance, you may have noticed that I have placed the Village on high alert. The Walls are at double strength and all passage in and out of the Village is denied, save for emergencies. 

“I believe that Danzou is our greatest threat to stability and peace since the release of the Kyuubi nearly seven years ago.” The Sandaime paused, closely observing each member of the room. He drew in a measured breath and let it out. 

“Then I believe we are at a conclusion. If there are no objections, then we shall move to the final deliberation--” 

There was an ear-splitting scream as the ceiling of the room literally _tore_ open, wood and chakra and living plants shredding apart amid plumes of chakra lightning and smoke. Twenty five ANBU operatives sprang into action, two immediately moving in to cover the Hokage, while twenty three swords unsheathed like quicksilver. 

When the dust storm cleared, Hatake Kakashi stood in the middle of the table, reeking of dust and ozone. Sparks of lightning still danced around his fists as he casually ignored the twenty three swords pointed at his throat. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said. “But as the Clan Head of the Hatake, I would like to register my objection and submit one last piece of evidence, if I may, Sandaime-sama.” 

The Sandaime gently pushed aside the ANBU guards hovering protectively over him. “You may, Hatake-dono.” 

Kakashi pulled out a scroll from his flak vest, clothed in what looked like fresh, though borrowed jounin blues. They were a touch short at the wrist, revealing a strip of pale white skin. 

He threw the scroll down onto the table, whip-like, and it unrolled the entire length of the table, falling to a stop in front of the Sandaime. 

“Release,” Kakashi said, coldly. One last puff of smoke erupted in the air and once it cleared, the Sandaime found himself peering down at what looked like Gari of Iwa’s head, permanently removed from his body. 

“I would like to add to the list of charges. Shimura Danzou illegally misappropriated ANBU resources for his own gains, resulting in the violation of several inter-Village peace treaties, as well as severe harm and death to loyal Konoha shinobi,” Kakashi reeled off, looking terribly bored, his hands shoved in his pockets. "As evidenced by Gari's head which he personally ordered me to acquire and which can be independently confirmed by his servant, Yakushi Kabuto, held in the Sannin Jiraiya's custody. 

“Now," Kakashi snarled, and the room suddenly dropped a bone chilling fifteen degrees,“tell me where he is so I can fucking kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END IS NIGH!!!! \o/


	12. Chapter 12

“Well, aren’t you an overdramatic little whelp. You ever hear of something called a door?” Tsume grinned wolfishly, the first one brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough to break the silence. She seemed entirely unaffected by the oppressive chill, the only sign of her discomfort revealed in Kuromaru’s raised hackles, his canines bared for battle.

“But you make a good point.” Tsume tapped a clawed fingertip on the table, the surface scattered with ash and dust and the remnants of what was once the ceiling. “I move to recognize Hatake-dono’s motion to sentence the traitor Shimura Danzou to death.”

The balance of the world shifted on the smallest of movements: a knife to the heart; a kiss on the forehead; the truth, simply spoken.

The Sandaime made a small, silent gesture with his hand, and the array of swords disappeared in a flurry, ANBU operatives slickly sheathing their weapons and stepping back into position as if Hatake Kakashi hadn’t, quite literally, crashed the Tribunal.

“Motion recognized,” the Sandaime said. “And seconding motions?”

Fugaku raised his head. “I second,” he said in a firm, if hoarse voice, as if he had already shouted himself raw in his own thoughts.

And so, as if on some unspoken signal, the room began to fill with echos of the same two words, _I second, I second, I second_ , until it came to the last person to speak. Homura was silent for a long moment, his head bowed over his clasped hands.

“He only ever thought about the Village,” Homura said finally, the words slow and unsteady on his tongue. “He only ever thought of his duty to us all.”

The Sandaime recalled one moment, so very long ago during the First War, when they had all gathered together during the freezing winter night, sharing cold, wet meal rations and warming their fingers with licks of tame chakra fire. Danzou alone sat apart, his hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword, watching, waiting, guarding them all from the enemy that lay beyond in the darkness.

In some ways, the Sandaime thought, Danzou had never left that night.

“I know,” the Sandaime said, gently. “But that does not mean his actions have not caused us all great harm. I can understand, but I cannot forgive. Not in this.”

Homura looked up, his deep-set eyes glittering behind his glasses. Then, at last, came the truth, simply spoken: “I second.”

“It is unanimous,” the Sandaime said. “We hereby pass judgement upon Shimura Danzou, in absentia, and find him guilty on all accounts. He is to be sentenced to death, effective immediately.”

The Sandaime paused, and raised his head to meet Kakashi’s flat, unyielding gaze. He still stood amidst all the wreckage, unruffled, as the Tribunal came to a close around him.

“Hatake-dono. Are you willing to bear the responsibility to carry out this charge?”

The mask on Kakashi s face shifted, obscuring what the Sandaime knew to be a thin, humorless smile. “I thought you’d never ask, Hokage-sama.”

 

* * *

 

There was a toad waiting on the Hokage’s desk, lounging carelessly on a stack of paperwork. He was busy using the pointy end of a pencil as a toothpick, his bulging eyes rolling in deep contentment.

“So you did receive Jiraiya's message,” Kakashi said, standing loosely at a ready position as the Hokage settled himself in his chair, adjusting his heavy red and white robes.

“A message, yes, if you could even call it that. He said that he had collected additional evidence regarding Danzou and mentioned that you were somehow involved. I put two and two together but somehow, it didn't quite involve…” The Sandaime paused.

“I was, perhaps, a little over enthusiastic about my entrance,” Kakashi said blandly.

The Sandaime gave him a look that Kakashi chose to ignore.

“If I had not entered as I did, would you have gotten your unanimous vote?” Kakashi asked, quiet.

The Sandaime hesitated, then shook his head. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Nevertheless, how did you--”

There was a sudden knock at the door-- a door that did not exist mere moments ago. There came a muffled “Excuse me” and the door swung open, revealing Tenzou’s tired, but determined face.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou said doggedly and stepped into the room, the door melting away behind him to become plain, unmarked wall once more. “Your guards refused to let me through but I had to get in anyway to stop Kakashi-senpai from doing something stupid again.”

“Ah,” the Hokage said, realization dawning on his face. “Tenzou, did you, perhaps…?”

“I didn't know he was going to _break_ the secret room when I told him where it was,” Tenzou said, so aggrieved that all his normal deference had been purged out of him. “He said it was an emergency and he had to talk to you and the Council right away about something involving Danzou.”

“He’ll be happy to fix it,” Kakashi interjected, ignoring the furious glare Tenzou shot his way.

“You have my thanks, Tenzou-kun,” the Hokage said gravely. Tenzou immediately colored, as if suddenly remembering in what particular company he was in and ducked his head, muttering something about it being an honor to be of service.

Kakashi turned back to the Hokage, and he could feel the time ticking steadily on, unceasing, like water flowing through the gaps in his fingers. “Nevertheless, you gave me this responsibility,” he said, finishing the Hokage’s earlier sentence. “We’re wasting time we don't have. Let me carry it out. I will give you his head, like I did Gari’s.”

The Sandaime looked at him, steadily, for a long moment, his deep craggy face unreadable. “Very well. I will grant you whatever resources you require. A team, perhaps?”

“I don’t--”

“It’d be good to have another tracker,” Tenzou interrupted, speaking quickly. His face was still bright red. “And of course we need to restock our supplies, I only managed to grab the bare minimum from the outpost before leaving for Konoha,” he barreled on, rattling off the long list of supplies he required.

_You don’t have to solve all the problems, save the entire world all by yourself._

_Teamwork_.

Kakashi was never more grateful for the mask that he wore than at that moment, as he turned his face away to meet the Hokage’s amused eyes.

“I’ll send word to Inuzuka-dono,” the Hokage said, once Tenzou had finally run out of steam and he began to realize that Kakashi had yet to object to his participation. “I’m sure she would be more than happy to contribute to your efforts.”

“Tell her to move quickly.” Kakashi looked up at the clock on the wall, the second hand ticking steadily. “I want to be out in the field by the end of the hour.”

“Yes, of course--”

The Hokage was interrupted again as there came a knock on the official double doors that led into the office. He looked briefly irritated, brow deeply furrowed, as he raised a hand in a swift gesture, the doors swinging open of their own accord.

Kakashi watched the Hokage’s face still and fall blank as the doors revealed one small, slender figure, clad not in the usual silk kimono, but in jounin blues and a worn flak vest. Her hair was neatly pinned back with silver combs shaped like fans.

“My apologies, Hokage-sama,” Uchiha Mikoto said, and bowed politely. Behind her slight shoulders hovered two ANBU guards, somehow conveying deep embarrassment behind impassive porcelain masks. “But I thought I would offer my assistance as well.”

For a long moment, no one spoke.

“You understand the risks,” Kakashi said at last, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question.

Mikoto lifted her head and her eyes flickered red for a brief moment; Kakashi caught three full swirling tomoe before they faded into black.

“I am owed,” she said, simply.

 

* * *

 

 

They began with the empty, abandoned sanitation facility, its borders cordoned off by a string of red seal tags marking it as a scene under official investigation.

Kakashi lifted the barrier up with a glowing blue hand and gestured forward. Mikoto stepped under gracefully, hardly having to duck her head. Inuzuka Rinko followed, baring a single canine in silent acknowledgement as she passed by Kakashi, her massive and heavily scarred bloodhound hard on her heels.

Tenzou rounded them out, trading his usual ANBU uniform for blues and a flak vest that still looked stiff, not yet broken in by long, miserable missions in horrible weather. He tugged at the collar of his vest as he ducked under the swinging seal tags, one of them brushing his hair for a fraction of a second.

He hissed, hackles rising in sudden shock.

“The pain is supposed to be a deterrent for the nosy,” Kakashi said, smiling underneath his mask. “Sorry,” he added, a touch too sincerely.

Tenzou gave him a withering look that cheered Kakashi tremendously but said nothing as he trailed after Rinko and Mikoto.

The facility was on the verge of falling apart, cracks spidering through the walls and the ceilings, held only together by hurried earth jutsu and slapdash seals to maintain the integrity of the building. Mikoto flicked on her flashlight, stepped forward for a closer inspection.

“This isn’t from a lack of maintenance,” she observed, the Sharingan stark against her pale, illuminated face. “I can see remnants of chakra workings that caused these stress fractures. These look similar to those set off by a triggered explosion.”

“Place still reeks of chakra too,” Rinko said, bending down as her ninken sniffed deeply at an innocuous pile of rubble on the ground.

The air was still thick with the lingering odor of smoke and dust, the walls streaks with soot, and underneath it all, the overpowering stench of chakra fire. For a brief moment, Kakashi thought back to the trenches he’d grown up in. The war had smelled a little like this.

“I assume you’ve read the reports,” Kakashi said, waiting for Rinko to straighten herself up before they continued down the hallway, heading for the stairwell at the end. “Danzou repurposed this facility for ROOT’s use, mainly for training and testing. It has easy access to the sewers, considering its original purpose, and far from notice given its location on the fringes of the Village. The perfect location to secretly re-educate children and mold their minds for his needs.”

The door leading to the stairs was propped open with a heavy cinder block, a yellow warning sign plastered above it.

“Yesterday, Danzou attempted to do so, but was stopped by Uchiha Shisui. This is his last known location before he disappeared, just as reinforcement arrived on scene.”

Tenzou turned his own flashlight on and aimed it into the dark depths of the stairs, revealing the curling tail of a rat as it scurried away from the sudden brightness.

“Well,” Rinko said, her voice suddenly gruff. “I’ll take point.” She was the first to venture forth with her ninken, Tenzou following, his hands ready to conjure wood at a moment’s notice.

Mikoto hung back, shoulders hunched. Her hands were trembling before she clenched them into tight fists.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kakashi said, quiet.

Mikoto looked up at him, her hard black eyes wet and gleaming with unshed tears. “I may have over-estimated my self control,” she said in a low voice.

Realization slowly dawned on Kakashi: Mikoto wasn’t afraid, she was _furious_.

She breathed in deeply, and as she exhaled, her face settled into a cold, empty blankness. “My apologies. I won’t let it happen again.”

Underneath the underneath, Kakashi gently reminded himself. “We’ll find him,” he said, and tendrils of his own rage rose up in his chest in reflection. “I promise.”

Their mismatched eyes met in perfect understanding.

“Capt-- Kakashi-senpai,” Tenzou called out from below, his voice echoing oddly off the walls. “I think you’ll want to see this.”

 

* * *

 

Underneath the wreckage and the rubble, Kakashi could see how the basement would have served as a laboratory, with rows of glittering white surgical tables and thick coils of cables capable of channeling both chakra and electricity. Sasuke had most likely rested on one of those tables.

Kakashi took an almost perverse pleasure out of seeing the equipment crumpled and dented beyond use. Above, there was an observatory that most likely allowed Danzou to observe the proceedings, shattered fragments of the glass window littering the ground and crunching underneath Kakashi’s sandals. Circling the tables was a crumbling remnant of a massive earthen dome, fading away into dust without a chakra construct to feed and sustain it. Few chakra workings survived the death of the originating ninja.

Tenzou stood at a particular table, the only one marked by splatters of blood. Rinko stood by his side, arms crossed over her chest. Her ninken sat by her side, looking expectant.

“We found Sasuke’s table,” Tenzou said, looking subdued.

“The blood?” Kakashi asked sharply. Beside him, Mikoto’s careful non-reaction said more than any flinch or gasp of horror.

“Uchiha Shisui’s,” Rinko said, shaking her head swiftly.

“Preliminary reports indicated that Shisui was stabbed in the chest while guarding Sasuke,” Mikoto said, and Kakashi knew that she was likely referring to a conversation she had with Itachi, who had led the reinforcements. She paused for a moment, then continued, “He was also blinded.”

Kakashi came to an abrupt stop. “Blinded?” he demanded. “By Danzou?”

Mikoto shook her head, a fleeting glimmer of uncertainty shadowing her face. “His autopsy is still in progress, but judging by the angle of the cut, the medics think that it was self-inflicted.”

_“I can heal them,” he said, “in exchange for your Sharingan.”_

From Kabuto, Kakashi knew that Danzou was obsessed with the Sharingan. He craved to possess its power for his own purposes, jealous of the leverage and strength it gave the Uchiha Clan.

Was it possible that Danzou had attempted to harvest Shisui’s own eyes and in a desperate attempt, Shisui stopped him with the only weapon that he had?

Kakashi swallowed, hard, suppressing the urge to reach up and press a hand again Obito’s aching eye. “I see,” he said finally.

“Tanken’s scented Shimura Danzou here too,” Rinko said, her eyes keen as she watched Kakashi’s face carefully. “The trail stops and disappears, but Tanken picked it back up again by the back of the room, by the generators.” She jerked a hand over by the rear of the room, where two hulking generators sat by an intricate inlay of pipework. “Looks like there’s some kind of exit to a sewage line.”

“We have ANBU searching through all the sewers,” Tenzou snarled in a tight voice. “And Uchiha Police stationed at nearly every entry point. I don’t understand how he still hasn’t been caught.”

“ROOT,” Kakashi said, “hides in the shadows. He likely has double agents planted within the ranks. And doubtless, he’s found some other concealed exit point.”

Danzou had to be hurting: his cover was blown, the Village was out for his head, and he had just a few resources left. Where would a murdering psychopath with delusions of grandeur and nothing left to lose flee to? And what would he do? A wounded snake backed into the corner was perhaps the most dangerous of all.

“We’ll follow his trail. He won’t leave the Village, it’s too important to him. If he left Konoha, it would just underscore how much legitimacy and power he’s lost. Rinko, can Tanken track over water as well?”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, whelp,” Rinko said, her voice cool. “Tanken tracks chakra. Unless Danzou’s dead or has some serious Sannin-level suppression seals on, he can run all he wants. We’ll find him.”

“Alright, then.” Kakashi nodded briskly. “I have my own map of hidden ROOT safehouses overlaid over the sewer lines.” Kabuto had ended up being quite the unexpected resource. “We’ll cross-reference it against the trail in the sewers and--”

There was a puff of astral smoke and a sharp _pop!_ as air was rapidly displaced. The smoke cleared to reveal a squat orange frog, clutching its webbed hands. “Oh, thank the Sage, I finally found you, I’ve been popping all over the place.”

Dread pooled in Kakashi’s stomach. “Jiraiya?”

The frog shook his head. “Danzou’s taken over Uchiha Police Headquarters and holding everyone in there hostage.”

The wounded snake, fangs dripping with venom, finally struck.

 

* * *

 

The Uchiha Police Headquarters lay in the heart of the Uchiha compound, housed in a building that was shared with the main clan hall, clan archives, and the compound infirmary. Hundreds of people passed through the building each day, both Uchiha and not, all Konoha citizens.

Kakashi couldn’t even begin to estimate the amount of people trapped behind the massive four walls that enclosed the building: tens of Uchiha officers, civilians, _children_ \--

The area was cordoned off with a familiar string of red seal tags, cleared entirely of civilians and watching ninja. ANBU and jounin perched on the rooftops of surrounding homes, positioned to engage when given the signal.

Jiraiya was waiting for him by a statue of Amaterasu, the Hokage standing by his side in what appeared to be his black battle armor.

“Kakashi, Uchiha-san,” Jiraiya nodded.

Mikoto nodded back stiffly. “My children?”

“Safe,” the Hokage said, gentle. “Itachi is standing guard over Sasuke. I’ve assigned Beta Squad for their protection. However, I’m afraid Fugaku is…”

Mikoto’s white face faltered for a moment, revealing an anguish that struck Kakashi to the core. “I expected as much,” she said, her voice faint. “He would have been in his office.”

”Somehow, Danzou managed to plant a few agents-- well, four to be exact, and had this barrier up and running by the time anyone knew what was going on. It’s a--”

“Four Violent Flames Barrier,” Kakashi cut in grimly, remembering its use by Orochimaru during the Invasion. It felt especially jarring to see the Hokage on this side, dressed in the same armor that he died in, as if the ghosts of his past were coming alive to haunt him.

Jiraiya stared at him. “How did you…? Oh, never mind,” he swore. “What’s important is that he managed to lace the building up with explosives and threatens to blow the whole thing up if we even attempt to step near the barrier. He’s been communicating through sound jutsu, projecting his voice.That was ten minutes ago and not a peep out of him since then.”

“It’s likely that all the ROOT operatives he has left are stationed inside that building, in order to secure the hostages and force Fugaku-dono’s obedience,” the Hokage said meditatively.

“I don’t understand,” Mikoto said, gaze shifting over to look at the shimmering seal barrier. “What does he want? Has he made any demands?”

“No,” Jiraiya shook his head. “Just voiced his warnings.”

For a long moment, no one spoke.

_“I can heal them,” he said, “in exchange for your Sharingan.”_

Kabuto had shown up all the way in Earth Country, demanding his Sharingan. Shisui had blinded himself. Sasuke had been kidnapped.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kakashi said slowly, distantly, as the pieces began to fall into place. “None of this matters.”

Mikoto looked intently at him, her black eyes bleeding into red. “What does that mean?”

“Danzou has nothing left to lose and one thing he wants more than anything in the world. They’re not hostages, they’re _assets_. He’s going to harvest every Sharingan he can get.”

Kakashi felt sick, bile rising up in his throat. He couldn’t help but remember Obito’s face, half-crushed, as Rin bent over him with gentle, glowing green hands. _I’ll be quick, I promise it won’t hurt a bit_ , she had whispered.

“We have to get in there. We have to stop him before he murders everyone in the building.”

Mikoto looked up at him, the Sharingan alight with a furious red fire, tomoe swirling in a hypnotic pattern.

“You're sure of this?” she asked him, her voice surprisingly calm and steady.

There was a chance that he was wrong. Kakashi desperately _hoped_ that he was wrong.

“Yes,” he said, the words like ash and dust on his tongue. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Mikoto’s gaze seemed to turn inward, the lazy spin of her Sharingan the only movement she made.

“Alright,” she whispered, so low that Kakashi was sure she meant it only for herself. She looked up at him at long last, blood red eyes beginning to grow wet with tears.

“I'm so sorry, Kakashi, but I have no choice.”

She raised her hand in a single gesture. There was sudden bright flare of chakra and Kakashi knew no more.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Kakashi noticed was the absence of his forehead protector, the familiar weight over Obito’s eye gone. Was he in the hospital again? Sluggishly, he checked his reserves. Surprisingly, he was nearly at full strength.

What had happened--?

“I know how valuable Hatake Kakashi is to you,” Mikoto said, conjuring up a rush of memories. The hunt for Danzou, the hostage situation, the tears running down Mikoto’s face as she cast a genjutsu on him.

Kakashi felt restraints binding his wrists and his legs tightly, ropes around his chest anchoring him to a hard wooden chair. He kept his eyes carefully closed, intent on preserving the illusion he was still unconscious.

“He's the only living example of a successful Sharingan transplantation in a non-Uchiha.” Mikoto’s voice was cool, measured, as if this were any ordinary conversation.

“So you think you can bargain one life for hundreds?” Danzou’s normally low voice was high and reedy, the voice of a man driven to the breaking point. “He's not that valuable of a resource.”

A pause. Kakashi cracked his eyes open, just a touch, and peered at the room from underneath the lashes. Mikoto stood in front of him and slightly to the side, her back to him. Danzou stood across the room, behind what looked like an office desk, holding a knife to a man’s bare throat.

Fugaku’s bare throat.

This was Fugaku’s office. He sat in his desk chair, mouth tightly gagged, his eyes blindfolded, Danzou standing behind him as if he were using Fugaku as a shield against Mikoto’s unwavering gaze. Kakashi saw something small and white flutter from the handle of the kunai: a white seal tag, brimming with suppressed power. From across the room, Kakashi recognized the swirling curves of the seals, as familiar to him as the handle of a knife in his hand, the weight of lightning in his palm.

It was a detonator for a chakra bomb, primed to ignite with a spark of chakra.

“I don't care about everyone else,” Mikoto said and in that cold, arch tone Kakashi heard Sasuke’s own voice, ten years in the future, cursing the name of the Village. “I'll give you him for my husband. You can do as you like with the rest.”

“You love him.” The disbelief was clear on Danzou’s face and Kakashi realized with growing horror that the bandages normally obscuring his eye had been removed, revealing a gaping hole where an eye _should_ be, knotted with old scar tissue and what appeared to be a wriggling mass of seals that preserved the eye socket, preparing it for a new eye to be transplanted. A Sharingan.

“He's my husband. I don't expect you to understand, only consider what I'm offering. Will you agree or not?” Behind her back, Mikoto’s tightly fisted hand curled into a V sign that swept downwards.

 _Ambush_.

Understanding snapped into place. Of course. Mikoto had taken him hostage, using him as leverage to gain entrance through the barrier that strength and chakra could not pierce. To gain access to Danzou.

Kakashi desperately took an accounting of his resources. He was bound too tightly, his fingers knotted into impossibility. His hidden knives, his kunai, his summoning scrolls all gone. He had nothing left but--

Obito’s eye.

“I miscalculated,” Danzou said, smiling widely, stretching the old scar on his chin and twisting the grotesque scarring of his eye even more. “I didn't expect you to act in this way, Uchiha Mikoto.”

Mikoto said nothing, but Kakashi assumed that the expression on her face said enough, judging by Danzou’s amused smile.

“Very well,” he said. “I think I've come to a decision. I appreciate the thought you've put into this. After all, you've brought me Sharingan no Kakashi and yourself. Three more eyes!” Danzou laughed, a thin high shriek and moved the knife in hand, the sharp edge heading straight for Fugaku’s jugular.

At that moment, Mikoto’s arm whipped out like quicksilver, the Uchiha combs in her hair falling apart to reveal razor sharp shuriken.

With Obito’s eye, Kakashi could track the spinning blades. They spun like lazy snowflakes in the air in exquisite slow motion, past and present and almost-future braided together in one image, heading straight for Danzou.

Kakashi opened his mouth to inhale. Obito’s eye tracked the shuriken, predicting the sudden, wet sinking into the exposed flesh of Danzou’s throat. Air rushed in, filling up his empty lungs. An arc of blood gushed in the nearly-future, rising up from Fugaku’s cut throat, his lifeblood pouring uselessly out of him. A breath out, air rushing outwards, to begin the cycle again. A spark of blue chakra as Danzou ignited the bomb, cursing the Uchiha with his dying breath in the almost-present.

The Mangekyo was quite simple to use, almost even elegant in its bare structure. To activate it, Kakashi simply had to relive the worst two days of his life.

Obito's face half-grinned up at him, blood trickling from the edges where rock met skin and boy became boulder, every detail exquisitely preserved for all eternity by the Sharingan. The weight of Rin’s heart in his palm, still beating, the small ‘o’ of surprise her mouth made as he breathed in her sweet, sweet scent, his fist buried in her chest, his other arm around her shoulders in the only embrace he had ever given her in her short life.

Obito’s eye began to cry, weeping ugly tears of blood.

The tomoe began to spin slowly, then picked up speed, quicker and quicker until they merged into a single perfect pinwheel.

Kakashi blinked.

Danzou’s hand disappeared from the wrist, his fingers, tightly clenched around the handle of the tagged kunai, swallowed up by an empty void. His single eye opened a fraction wider as he began to look down at the bleeding stump of his wrist, the cut perfectly level, as if it had been severed by an invisible sword.

The Sharingan remembered all that had passed and read the lines of what might come to pass; with every blink of Obito's eye, Kakashi was given the choice to change the future.

“I--” Danzou said and then Mikoto’s spinning shuriken landed with a dull thunk in his throat. He gasped, blood bubbling up in gushing foam as he breathed, one last time.

Slowly, without fanfare, Danzou’s dead body slumped to the floor, his blood soaking Fugaku’s bound body even as his heart pumped futilely, for a few remaining seconds.

Kakashi looked up at Mikoto, who stood in front of him as still as a statue. A single drop of blood streaked down a pale cheek, in imitation of a tear.

“It's over,” she said.

And so it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ain't over until it's over. One more chapter until this is DONE! 
> 
> (Also, look! A new update! In the same week even!!! Stay tuned for the happy ending...)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Watanabe Textiles and Mercantile Company](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284448) by [LectorEl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/pseuds/LectorEl)




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